


The Fox and the Hound

by ItsMe_Basil



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abduction, Alpha Talia Hale, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Dead Sheriff Stilinski, First Time, Full Shift Werewolves, Good Peter Hale, Hales Take in Rare Supernaturals, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sanctuary, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit, Stiles is Rare, Werefox Stiles Stilinski, Werefoxes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:28:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25659745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsMe_Basil/pseuds/ItsMe_Basil
Summary: Werefoxes were about as rare as banshees. The only difference between the two was that they were stuck between a being killed by hunters, or being abducted by the ESB. Peter heard stories about the group.For animals, they were incredible in bringing them back from extinction. But somehow, they found out about the supernatural, and dipped their greedy hands in.They dealt with breeding, ecological and genetic research. Their latest hyperfixation were werefoxes. The species had never been a big group, they kept to themselves and blended in to their surroundings.'Foxes were being hunted on both sides, and in most cases the hunters found them first. Peter wouldnt be surprised if Stiles was the only 'fox this side of the country.
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 56
Kudos: 567
Collections: Teen wolf





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been getting a lot of comments about the spacing in my stories. Unfortunately I can't get the space between my paragraphs. I've tried double spacing before I post, and I've tried going through my books to add the spacing later, and neither works!  
> I'm sorry for the inconvenience.

The chatter in the kitchen was easy for Peter to tune out as he sat in the arm chair with a book in hand. He liked the background noise -but it wasn't always like that. Before they had turned their home into a safe haven for the rare, Peter had enjoyed the quiet. Now, he couldn't focus on his reading if he didn't have noise. 

His pack had consisted of family -Talia and her kids, Peter, a couple cousins. Nearly six years ago, Erica, Boyd, Issac and Kira joined. And then Jackson -their first rare- showed up. Now, the Hale pack was the biggest it had ever been, with a hellhound and a kanima safely in their ranks.   
Hunters kept their distance, knowing the Hales were the fiercest and strongest pack this side of California. It helped that two Argents took residence in their territory -Chris and Allison grew on Peter, though he didn't trust them the way the rest of the pack did. 

Peter heard the sound of a stick snapping outside, and the noise in the kitchen died. Peter dog-eared the page he was on with a put upon sigh, setting the book down just as his nephew, Derek, stormed out of the house with Boyd and Erica on his heels. 

So much for a relaxing afternoon. He heard the growl as he got to his feet, and the surprised "ack!" as Derek more than likely went with brute force. 

Peter stepped to the front door, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed as he watched his nephew hike up a skinny kid against a tree, clawed hands fisted in the kid's flannel shirt. The kid's scent stung with fear before it dulled seconds later.   
The rest of the pack was trying to see around Peter, or at the windows. 

Peter scented the air, noticing the kid was hiding his scent. Interesting. 

"Who are you?" Derek growled. Peter knew he flashed his eyes to try and frighten the kid, but the kid wasn't buying the act, and it made Peter smirk a little.   
"I'm here to see your alpha," the kid said. Derek growled at that, pressing the kid further into the tree. The kid winced just a little, his legs bent so he could place his feet on the tree behind him.

"You don't see the alpha until we know who you are," Erica grumbled, arms crossed over her chest. Peter should -as the senior if the group- take a handle on this little interaction, but he was too busy watching the kid. 

His skin was pale, littered with moles, hair a mess of brown sticking up oddly, yet he pulled it off. He was wearing jeans, a graphic tshirt and a blue flannel over top. 

The kid rolled his eyed so hard his head rotated with them, and Peter had to hold back a chuckle at how Derek responded with a threatening growl. 

Scott sidled past Peter, eyebrows furrowing. The kid looked up just as Scott reached the first step. 

"Well, well," the kid sounded absolutely tickled, honey whiskey eyes brightening. "Scott McCall!"

Derek faltered at that, as well as the rest of the group. Peter cocked an eyebrow, noting the recognition filter through Scott's shoulders. 

"Mieczysław?" 

"Its Stiles now," the kid grinned. His utter lack of concern for being pressed into a tree with a werewolf at his chest shocked Derek into letting the kid go, and he landed on his feet easily. 

Scott was already in Derek's place, wrapping the stranger into a tight hug. 

"Its been forever!" Scott grinned. 

"You got the bite I see," Mieczysław-or Stiles now- looked at him with an amused smirk, hiking his backpack up onto his shoulder. 

"Yeah, back in freshman year-"

"Anyone wanna fill the rest of us in here?" Erica interrupted, the three 'wolves still on edge. Peter stepped from the door frame, moving to the top step, very interested. Scott had never mentioned a Mieczysław before, and he'd been living in the pack for almost five years. 

"Oh, right," Scott looked a little sheepish. "This is my best friend from middle school."

Stiles gave a waggle of his eyebrows, arm clasped around Scott's shoulders. Peter stepped off the porch, making his way to the group at the edge of the yard. He was glad the rest of the pack had the common sense to stay inside; no need to swarm. 

"Man, I thought you moved to Maine or something," Scott said, attention back to Stiles. "Where's your mom and dad? Are you guys moving back?" 

Everyone smelled the shift in his scent, well before Stiles' smile faded and his shoulders sagged a little. 

"They're not with me, no," Stiles said, and he didn't have to elaborate. 

"Man, I'm so sorry."

Stiles brushed it off, cocking an eyebrow. "I came back because I heard the Hales took in strays."

Stiles' honey whiskey eyes landed on Peter, taking in his fill before looking at Derek. 

"So, take me to your leader, or whatever," he grinned. Derek scowled. 

"Our 'leader' is out," Peter hummed. The kid piqued his interest, that was for sure. He didn't seem at all on edge in the presence of werewolves, but Stiles was definitely covering his scent. Peter couldnt tell what he was. "I'm the stand-in."

Stiles smirked in amusement, hiking his bag up his shoulder again. 

"Awesome," he said, his eyes looking Peter up and down. "You can tell your guard dog he can stand down, I'm not a threat or anything."

Stiles hitched a thumb in Derek's direction as he made his way to where Peter stood, without a care in the world. He was still hiding his scent. 

Peter snorted a laugh, hearing Derek growl again. A glance had his nephew backing off, and Peter was further amused when Stiles walked past him and headed for the front porch. 

Peter glanced at Scott, who was grinning. He shrugged at Peter's silent question before jogging to catch up with Stiles. 

"So tell me everything I missed," Stiles demanded with a grin, the two climbing the stairs and heading inside. 

"Seriously?" Derek frowned. Peter looked over at him. All three betas looked lost. Peter didn't blame them, the kid was definitely different from what they normally dealt with. 

"Let's hear him out," Peter said, already heading for the house. "He's definitely interesting."

He followed his nose to the kitchen, where Stiles and Scott were sitting at the island, Stiles slouching in the high top chair like he owned the place. It was different to the other visitors they had, where they sat rigid at the edge of their seat, jittery with nerves. 

Stiles turned to look over his shoulder, head lulling back and exposing a long neck, eyes raking up and down as Peter entered the kitchen. The kid was ballsy, and Peter definitely wanted to learn more about him. 

"Ah, leader stand-in," Stiles smirked, head following as Peter moved to stand on the other side of the counter. His lithe body sat sinuously across the chair, one arm hooked behind the back, legs parted widely. He was showing off all his vulnerable spots, yet didn't look the least big concerned. It was driving Peter insane. 

"Peter," he corrected. Stiles' smirk grew, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. 

"Scott tells me you're the brother," he says, long bony fingers tapping against the countertop. Peter nods once.   
Stiles cocked an eyebrow. "Well, I have a question I need answered before I agree to anything."

Peter was a little taken aback. He glanced at Scott, but the kid was grinning, like this was normal. 

Peter dropped into a chair at his side, nodding for Stiles to get to it. Stiles' fingers stopped their little patter, suddenly becoming serious. 

"What's your views on ESB?"   
"Endangered species biologists?" Scott asked, that confused puppy look gracing his face. Stiles nodded, though his eyes stayed on Peter. 

"They like to stick their noses where they dont belong," Peter said. The supernatural weren't known to most, but the ESB had found out about them and had used their degrees to 'help' where they weren't needed. 

Sure, they helped with actual endangered animals, but they were known for abducting supernatural creatures for their research. 

Stiles seemed to like that answer, because the serious look cracked a little, the side of his mouth quirking up. "Okay, I'm hooked, where do I sign?"

Peter cocked an eyebrow. The kid was definitely interesting. Peter wanted to invite him into the pack only to figure him out, but it wasn't his choice to make. 

"Talia has to approve you first," Peter said. "And we don't let anyone in unless we know what they are."

Scott looked eager to figure it out too. Peter wouldnt be surprised if Scott had no idea the kid was anything but human. Today seemed to be the first time he could tell -since he was bitten well after this kid and his parents moved. 

"Sure, sure, that makes sense," Stiles grinned, waving a hand in dismissal. His scent came all at once, filling Peter's senses as his honey whiskey eyes glowed orange. 

"Whoa!" Scott breathed, his own eyes flashing gold. "What are you?"

"Werefox," Peter answered before Stiles could. The kid looked impressed, a grin on his face. 

"The one and almost only," Stiles grinned, throwing his arms out, presenting himself. 

"Dude," Scott gaped. "That's so cool! How long have you been a 'fox?"

Stiles looked smug at Scott's reaction, which made Peter smirk a little. He could tell Jackson would either love him or hate him. 

"Whole life," Stiles shrugged. "Us 'foxes don't have the ability to create others with bites like 'wolves can."

"Dude," Scott said, still in awe. Peter watched it feeding the 'fox's ego, the kid preening in his seat. "I never knew!"

"Not surprising," Peter hummed, watching as Stiles smirked again at Peter's words. "They're very secretive."

"We prefer self-contained," Stiles corrected. "We aren't pack animals like you guys. Most of us like to keep to ourselves."

Scott's face fell a little in confusion. "So why do you want to join ours?" He asked. "Not that I not thrilled to see you -I've missed you, bro- but the Hale pack is pretty big."

Peter tilted his head to the side, watching Stiles' shoulders droop just a little, a heavy sigh falling from parted lips. Those bony fingers flitted through his hair, messing it up even more -Peter hated how he looked so damn attractive while also looking like he stuck his finger in a light socket. 

"I ran into a 'wolf in Maine," Stiles shrugged, trying to fake indifference. "He found out I was heading for Nevada and told me the Hales took in rare supernaturals, and I'm about as rare as they get." He ended with a shrug. 

"That you are," Peter agreed. Werefoxes were about as rare as banshees. The only difference between the two was that they were stuck between a being killed by hunters, or being abducted by the ESB. Peter heard stories about the group. 

For animals, they were incredible in bringing them back from extinction. But somehow, they found out about the supernatural, and dipped their greedy hands in. 

They dealt with breeding, ecological and genetic research. Their latest hyperfixation were werefoxes. The species had never been a big group, they kept to themselves and blended in to their surroundings. 

'Foxes were being hunted on both sides, and in most cases the hunters found them first. Peter wouldnt be surprised if Stiles was the only 'fox this side of the country. 

Stiles grinned and waggled his eyebrows. 

"Well, we have a guest bedroom," Scott said, already so eager to help his long lost friend. "At least until Talia comes back to meet you."

At the last second, he turned to Peter, as if asking for permission to house the 'fox. The McCalls still lived on Hale territory.

Stiles also looked over at Peter, chin resting on his palm, fingers tapping against his lips.

"You don't need my permission," Peter shrugged, looking down at Scott. "You gotta ask your mom."  
Scott nodded, a look of determination on his face as he jumped off the chair. 

"Be right back," he called, slapping Stiles on the shoulder as he passed. Stiles grinned, watching him leave. 

When it was just the two of them, Stiles turned back to look at Peter, eyes openly taking in all he could. 

"Why do you know so much about 'foxes?" He asks, sounding almost accusatory, eyes narrowing on Peter and lips thinning. "Did you know one?"

Peter just raises an eyebrow before leaning back in his chair.   
"Its my job to know as much as I can," Peter supplies. Stiles nods, continuing to tap his lips, leaning against the counter. "You're the first one I've met before."

At that, Stiles' eyes brighten, his face breaking out into a grin. "Well, lucky you."

Peter huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. He really hoped Talia let him stay -the kid was too interesting. Peter wanted to sift through his entire being and figure him out. 

"Great news," Scott said, walking back in with a grin. Stiles pulled his eyes from Peter and smiled up at his friend. "Mom said you can stay for a couple days."

"Really?" Stiles asks. Peter couldnt help eyeing his exposed neck as Stiles turns to look over his shoulder, finding the pulse point. 

"Oh, yeah!" Scott grinned. "Got the bed already made up."

"Awesome," Stiles grins and hops off the chair. He turns to Peter then, leaning his arms against the back of the chair, back pack secured on his back. "When's boss lady coming back?"

Peter cocks an eyebrow in amusement, standing up as well. Stiles is a couple inches shorter than Peter, much thinner, more leggy. It was obvious by his stature that he was a 'fox, Peter shouldve guessed it. 

"She should be here tomorrow night. We can set up a time the morning after."

Stiles grins, drumming his hands against the chair before stepping back. 

"Great," he says before giving Peter a mock salute and an appreciative once over before spinning on his heels and following Scott out the door. Yeah, Peter thinks. He's definitely piqued Peter's interest.

*-*

The following day is silent. It's a week day, so most of the pack has work or school. Scott was working at the clinic, Issac and Boyd had started college last fall, Jordan had a day shift at the station, Erica and Jackson worked in a bookstore, the younger betas were finishing their last year in high school, and Peter was sitting in his favorite chair, book in hand. 

He had his phone on the coffee table, playing a podcast -just for the noise while he read. 

He was content with sitting and reading all day, so that's what he did. Liam, Mason, Hayden and Malia came home first, the four carpooling to and from the high school. Malia was a year older than them, but had to repeat a year. 

"Hey, I'm gonna go for a run," Malia called, dumping her backpack on the stairs before heading for the kitchen.

"Homework first," Peter called, half lost still in his book. "All of you."

A collective groan fell from the kitchen. Malia was Peter's, though it didn't feel like it. She was the product of a one night stand, and although he was thrilled to find out about her, neither of them wanted that father daughter relationship everyone else did. 

Besides, Malia had a father, and he was good for her, had been around her whole life. And Peter wasn't much of a father figure. Uncle he could do, father he could not. 

So he treated Malia the same way he treated the other betas. And she treated him like she treated everyone else. Most times, Peter forgot she was his daughter and not his niece. He held the same love for her as he did for Derek, Laura or Cora. 

Peter decided a shower and food was in order when the sun started to set, knowing Talia would be back with Laura from their diplomatic trip. 

He showers, and when he comes down for food, half the gang has returned. He knows Jordan wont be back until much later, but Peter goes about the kitchen, sliding past Issac as he grabs an apple, and ducking under Derek's arm to grab cheese from the fridge. 

It's a good thing this house is so damn big. Living with a bunch of teenagers had never been apart of his plan, but once Talia started bringing in strays, it was hard to stop. 

Peter had never really been into it until they picked up Jackson. The kid was a rare creature -kanima- and had been hunted since he was bitten in freshman year. 

When the ESB found out what he was, they did whatever they could to get him -to study him and find out how he ticked.   
Peter knew most times, when humans wanted to know how something ticked, that thing stopped ticking. But Talia had found him before that happened, took him in and taught him everything Jackson needed to know about himself and about the pack he was now apart of. 

After that, Erica had shown up. She was a regular werewolf, bitten in high school, and had asked Talia if her and her two friends could join. Boyd and Issac were quiet compared to their female counterpart, and Peter found himself enjoying their company. 

After that, came a girl named Hayden, a werecheeta, then Liam and Mason showed up, and although Mason was human, Talia made him pack too. 

Then there was Jordan, and Theo, and then Allison and Chris showed up, and that had really thrown the pack for a loop, but it turned out to be okay. 

Scott had been a werewolf for five seconds when he met Kira, and now, with most of them living in the Hale house -as they like to call it- there was barely any free rooms available. 

But with Stiles now, Peter was sure they'd be at capacity, and wondered if building a new home on the property would be something to bring up to Talia at a later date. 

The Hales were the only pack to have as many rare supernaturals, and the hunters and ESB knew it. Unfortunately for them, Talia made it very clear from the start -when Jackson came into the picture- that the Hales would fight dirty to keep what was theirs. 

And news travels fast in the supernatural community. 

Jackson, Jordan, Hayden, and Stiles -once Talia accepted him as pack- were all extremely rare, and all four of them were running from both the hunters and the ESB. 

Peter sometimes forgot how lucky he was to only have to worry about hunters, until he looked at his new pack mates and realized some kids had it worse. 

There was a big greeting when Talia and Laura came back, all the betas swarmed the two in the yard. Derek, Cora and Peter stayed on the porch, watching fondly. Jackson was still pretty reserved, but Peter saw him light up when Talia paid extra attention to him, putting a hand at the base of his neck and pressing their foreheads together. 

Laura was already climbing the stairs, wrapping Cora in a tight hug before punching Derek in the shoulder and running up stairs. Even though the two of them were well into their twenties, Derek still growled and chased after her, making Laura squeal in excitement. Cora just rolled her eyes. 

"How was your trip?" Peter asked when Talia made it to the porch, the swarm of puppies at her ankles backing off now that they'd had a chance to greet their alpha. 

"It went well," Talia smiled, her small carryon hanging by her knee. "The Ito pack have agreed to our terms, and their own weren't within reason."

The Ito pack was as old as the Hale pack, and just as well known. They set up residence in Nevada after hunters had raided their home in Louisiana. They lost half their pack. 

Being so close, Satomi and Talia decided to meet and set down some rules and guidelines. 'Wolves were very territorial, and although Nevada didnt fall anywhere close to the Hale territory line, Satomi wanted to make sure the Hales knew there would be nothing to worry about on their end, and offered an alliance. 

"Job's not done yet," Peter said, following Talia inside. Talia gave him a raised eyebrow. "We had a visitor yesterday. A 'fox looking for sanctuary."

"Come to my room, we can discuss it more while I unpack," Talia said. Peter followed her up the stairs and down the hall to her room. 

*-*

Scott brought Stiles by the following morning, just as the pack was heading out. Talia had been briefed on what Stiles had told Peter two days prior, and she seemed open to accepting him as pack. 

"Talia!" Scott greeted excitedly. He had stayed home yesterday to keep Stiles company, and hadn't been able to greet her. Talia smiled warmly at him, her eyes flicking to Stiles, who had his bag slung over his shoulder. He was wearing the same outfit as yesterday, though it smelled like it had been washed. 

"This is Mieczysław," Scott introduced. Stiles gave a friendly smile, one hand curled around the strap of his back pack and thr other jutting out in a handshake. 

"Stiles," he greeted. Talia took his hand, but didn't shake it. Instead, she gave it a squeeze. 

"Why don't you come into my office and we can talk," she said, calm and smiling. Stiles nodded, and when Scott moved to follow, Peter placed a hand on his shoulder. 

"She won't eat him, Scott," Peter reminded him. "We'll be finished in a couple minutes if you want to wait somewhere."

Scott just nodded. Peter followed behind Talia and Stiles, and shut the door to her office behind them. 

"Take a seat," Talia nodded for the chairs closest to the door, while she rounded thr desk and sat in the larger chair. 

Stiles let his bag slip off his shoulder and set it down at his feet before plopping into the chair. Peter took up residence in the small window, leaning against the sill with his arms folded comfortably across his chest. 

"Peter filled me in on your story," Talia said, arms crossed and elbows planted on her desk. "But I'd like to hear more from you."

Stiles nodded, like it was something he expected. Scott probably gave him the 4-1-1 the day before. Before Stiles could talk though, Talia continued. 

"I remember your parents," she said. "You were very young when the three of you left."

Stiles nodded, fingers tapping an unknown rhythm onto his thighs. 

"Yeah, I was twelve," he said. "The Argents came into town and my dad thought it best if we leave, so we moved to Maine."

"I'm sorry they couldnt make the journey back," Talia said softly. Stiles shifted a little, eyes dropping to his lap before shrugging his thanks. 

"We ran into a group of hunters," Stiles continued. "I was faster than them. I managed to get away."

"You're very lucky, Stiles," Talia smiled sympathetically. Again, Stiles shrugged. "How long ago?"

"Six weeks," Stiles hummed. "I started running and didn't stop until I got here."

Peter frowned at that. The kid had hoofed it from Maine to California all on his own so close after his parents had been murdered. The kid ran from the hunters and didn't stop until he was on the other side of the country. 

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-three, same as Scott," Stiles said, sounding relieved that Talia had changed the subject. "Though he's older by a month."

"You two were very close?"

"Yeah, Scott's like my brother," Stiles nodded. "I wanted to say goodbye to him, but all I managed was a note in class saying I was going to Maine."

Peter usually kept quiet during these meetings. He was mostly just there to look pretty and listen. 

"We are well aware of the decline on 'foxes," Talia said after a short time, changing the subject yet again. "We know all about the ESB, and have our fair share of run ins with hunters. We'd be happy to offer you a place in the pack."

Stiles' eyes widened a little, a grin on his face. He didn't seem to be expecting it, even though that's the reason he came.   
"But before we do," Talia continued. "I want to know about you. Your instincts, habits, any boundaries you have, so we can make you feel as welcomed as we can."

"Oh," Stiles blinked. "Um, well, I mean-" he scratched at his jaw, shifting in his chair. It was so different from the first time Peter met him. 

"I don't know how much you know about 'foxes," he settles on. It makes Talia smile.

"Just assume we're ignorant," she supplied. 

So Stiles did. Peter and Talia listened quietly as Stiles told them about how territorial 'foxes were, how Stiles himself didn't like being stuck inside, and had a lot of energy and liked running. He explained how the full moon had no effect on him, but how he -by nature- was extremely cunning and got bored if life got dull. 

He promised to keep his trickster nature to himself as much as possible, and that all he really needed was a den somewhere safe. 

When he'd finished, Talia smiled and stood up. Peter straightened as well, and Stiles got to his feet too, looking nervous. It was a first, Peter noted. 

"We don't have any sort of dens in our territory," Talia said. "But we have a spare room, and you're more than welcome to stay with us."

Stiles blinked, then grinned. "Really?"

Talia nodded. "Peter can show it to you."

Stiles glanced at Peter with that appreciative once over before grinning back at Talia. "Okay, thank you."

Talia stepped around the desk, placed a hand on Stiles' neck, and touched their foreheads together. Stiles definitely wasn't expecting it, but she pulled away and nodded for Peter. 

Peter headed for the door, and Stiles swiftly snatched his bag, thanked Talia again, before jogging to catch up with Peter.   
Scott met them at the stairs, with a couple other betas. 

"So?" Scott asked, bouncing on his heels. 

"You're stuck with me," Stiles grinned. Peter watched in amusement as Scott jumped into Stiles' arms, making Stiles laugh. When Scott pulled away, they pressed their foreheads together, before stepping back. 

"Is this some gang initiation thing?" Stiles asked. Peter chuckled. 

"No," Scott grinned. "We'll do the initiation thing tonight behind the house, so sleep with pants on." Stiles laughed again. 

"Anyway, this is Kira, Cora, Liam and Issac," Scott introduced the group of betas all wanting to get a look at their new pack mate. He pointed each out as he named them. 

"Stiles," he greeted with an awkward wave. Kira eagerly bumped their foreheads, followed by Liam. Cora and Issac gave a smile instead.   
Once the introductions were finished and Kira got her excitement out, Peter lead Stiles up the stairs to the second floor. 

The last room upstairs was right across from Hayden's, and it was fairly empty. A twin sized bed pressed to one wall, a dresser to the other one and a closet. The bed had a thin blanket and a flat pillow, but Stiles stepped in and looked around like he just stepped into an art gallery. 

"This is my room?" Stiles asked, turning around once before looking at Peter, who was still in the door frame. "I don't have to share?"

Peter raised an eyebrow. "No, you don't have to share." Stiles grinned, looking around again before dropping his bag onto the bed. 

"I haven't had my own room in ten years," Stiles confessed, grinning. "You're sure I can stay?"

"As long as you want," Peter nodded. It was a common thing for new pack mates. They were excited for their own room, having lived in hotels or under bridges for most of their lives. So Peter didn't know why he had a twinge in his stomach at Stiles' confession. Or maybe he did and just didn't want to think about it. 

"Should I expect the gang initiation to lean more towards sorority girls in robes with candles and chants, or back alley beat downs?"

Peter chuckled again, rolling his eyes and moving into the room a little more. 

"If Scott's initiating it, expect sorority girls," he said. "If its Jackson, back alley."

"You won't be apart of it?" Stiles asked, cocking an eyebrow. 

"I have better things do to."  
"Like?"

"Sleeping."

That got a laugh out of Stiles. He threw his head back, exposing his neck for just a half second before looking at Peter. 

"Get settled, and we can see about getting you anything you need." Peter continued. Stiles looked over at his back pack -Peter assumed it was all he had- before turning to Peter and nodding. 

Peter held Stiles' neck, stepping forward and pressing their foreheads together. Stiles' breath hitched in his throat, scent turning sharp with surprise with an undertone to it that made Peter smirk as he pulled away. 

Stiles cleared his throat, taking a step back and scratching his head. 

"Come down when you're ready," Peter said, heading for the door. "Lunch will be at noon."


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles unpacked the one outfit in his bag, stuffing his shirt, pants, change of underwear and socks into the top drawer. 

He grabbed the tooth brush and paste, his hair brush and the book he had and set them on the dresser. 

He had just put the two granola bars on his bed when Scott knocked on the door frame. 

"Hey, bro," Stiles grinned. Scott smirked and stepped in. "I don't have much to unpack. I was wondering if it'd be okay to snoop around."

"Definitely," Scott grinned. "I'll show you around if you want."  
Stiles dropped the empty bag to the foot of thr bed, brushing his hands off on his thighs before grinning. 

"Lead the way, dude."

Scott showed Stiles where each pack member slept, but both were careful not to go inside or open any of the closed doors.   
"Peter sleeps here," Scott pointed to a shut door. "And then Derek sleeps next to him."

The two headed down stairs after Scott showed Stiles where the four bathrooms were. 

Downstairs, Stiles was lead from the foyer to the living room, back across the foyer to the library, then to the kitchen, and the second living room in the back. 

"This is the mud room," Scott hummed. Stiles noted the large doggie door, grinning a bit. "Basement is for the 'wolves who have trouble with the full moon, so you don't have to worry about anyone trying to eat you," Scott commented as they passed the basement door. 

"You go down there?" Stiles asked. 

"Not for four years," Scott grinned as they walked outside where the rest of the pack were.   
Stiles' eyes fell on Peter, who stood beside the guy who'd slammed him into a tree. Scott introduced him as Derek. 

"Talia's got three kids," Scott continued, and pointed each one out. "Laura is next for alpha and is oldest, then there's Derek, who will be to Laura what Peter is to Talia, and then Cora is the youngest."

"And they let all these people into their pack?" Stiles knew 'wolves were so much different than 'foxes in that aspect, but it still was hard to grasp. 

"Oh yeah, bigger the pack, the stronger we are." 

The two stepped off the back porch, and Stiles blinked, lifting his head when the beta from the other day stepped up to the two. Stiles knew the guy had been tall, but standing so close, Stiles was a little intimidated by the black man, who eyed Stiles like he was nothing more than an ankle biter. 

"Hey, Boyd," Scott grinned, the man's height having no effect on him. Stiles on the other hand, had a hard time not being intimidated by him. Damn his shorter stature. The guy had to be six foot five at least! 

"You the new 'fox?" Boyd asked, voice deep. 

"There's an old one?" Stiles manages to get out, swallowing thickly. He wanted to step back, put some room between the two, but he didn't. Didnt want Boyd to know he was actually extremely uncomfortable being so close to a giant. 

"No," Boyd said with a shrug. "Burgers are on. How do you like yours?"

Stiles blinked. "Medium rare," he said, at a loss for words beyond that. Boyd nodded, turned around and left back for the large grill. Stiles blinked, turning to Scott. 

"Is he a mammoth?" Stiles whispered. Scott laughed, leading Stiles further into the yard. 

"He's just big." Stiles wipped around to see Laura. He had yet to meet her. She grinned at him. "I'm Laura."

"Hi," Stiles breathed. "I'm Stiles."

She grins, grabs Stiles by the elbow and promptly yanks him from Scott and towards the Hales, all gathered around and talking with a couple younger betas. Stiles thinks one of them is Hayden, and the other one starts with an L. 

"Hey," the beta that possibly starts with an L greets, hands stuffed in his pockets. He looks like he's maybe fifteen years old, but he has more muscle than Stiles, and is way more filled out. He only reached Stiles' shoulder, but he had no doubt this beta could win any fight against Stiles. 

"Hi," Stiles managed, before Laura yanked him further into their little circle. 

"Stiles, this is Hayden," Laura said, gesturing to the girl who looked to also be fifteen. She also looked like she could kick Stiles' ass. 

"Nice to meet you," Stiles said. She smirked at him, like she knew exactly what he was feeling, and before anything else happened, Boyd appeared like a giant shadow. 

Stiles let out a yip, side stepping and nearly bumping into Peter, before Boyd thrust a plate into Stiles' hand and then walked off. Stiles blinked. 

"That dude needs a bell," he mumbled, looking down at his burger. Someone had put ketchup and cheese on it already. 

The group chuckled. Talia was standing on the other side of Peter, with Derek beside her. The beta was next, followed by Hayden and then Laura. 

"So does Derek," the beta grinned. Stiles grinned back, watching as Derek uncrossed his arms and gave him a good thwack to the back of his head. 

That got a laugh out of Stiles, but he tried to cover it, which mostly sounded like he was blowing a raspberry into his hand. 

"Boys," Talia sighed. "Let's behave just a little. You weren't raised by wolves."

"Technically Derek was raised by 'wolves," Hayden grinned. Stiles smiled, lifting his burger to his mouth as he watched Talia roll her eyes and Derek level her with a hard glare. 

Laura busted out in a gut clutching laughter, that seemed to pull a smile from Peter and Talia. 

"Mieczysław!" Stiles turned his head, the shout stopping the group's conversation. Scott jogged up with his own plate and two cans of root beer. 

"Dude, thanks," Stiles grinned, taking the can in his free hand. He easily opened it one handed before taking a sip. 

"What did he call you?" Hayden asked. Stiles felt a blush coloring his cheeks and cleared his throat a little as every eye in the group looked at him expectantly.

"Mieczysław," Scott said for him. "His birth name."

"Its Polish," Stiles says, stuffing his mouth with his burger. "I just go by Stiles now."

"Used to go by Mischief," Scott grinned. 

"Mischief, huh?" Peter cocked an eyebrow. Stiles swallowed his burger. 

"I feel like you just pulled out my naked baby pictures or something," Stiles nearly whined as he looked at Scott. 

"If it makes you feel any better," Laura grins. "Derek's are just inside."

"And so are yours," Derek threatened with a curled lip. Stiles grinned. He never had siblings, aside from Scott. The dynamic between siblings always intrigued him. 

"No need to feel embarrassed by your name," Talia smiled. Stiles smiled back in thanks. Then Talia turned her eyes to the betas of the group, gaze hardening. "And no teasing either."

"Wasn't gonna," the fifteen year old beta grumbled, hands sticking into his pockets and making him seem even more broader. "Its a cool name."

"Why don't you go by it anymore?" Scott asked. Back in middle school, he'd gone by Mieczysław, or Mischief if no one could pronounce it. Stiles couldnt even pronounce it until he was nine. 

Stiles shrugs once, trying for nonchalance as he took a swig of root beer. "ESB found my school records a couple months after I left. Dad thought it was best to go by something else."

"So you picked Stiles?" Hayden asked. 

"Its an old family nickname," Stiles said. 

"Oh, yeah," Scott frowned. "Didn't your dad go by Stiles?"

Stiles gave another small nod, taking a bite of his burger. He didn't want to talk about his dad, or his mom. Thankfully, the group seemed to catch on fairly quickly and the conversation took a turn. 

Stiles stood back, listening to the conversation. He never had a pack outside of his mom and dad. He wouldnt even call it a pack, it was just family. He never wanted to be apart of a pack, but watching as these people talked and interacted with each other made Stiles very glad that Talia had accepted him. 

Stiles had spent all his teenage years on the run, hoping from hotel to hotel, never staying in one spot for too long. 

At one point, while staying in Kentucky, the three of them had been shifted for seven months, living as foxes in the woods, because it was safer than trying to find a place to stay. 

And no matter what they did, hunters seemed to find them. And if it wasn't hunters, it was the ESB -who tried to catch them like animals with cages and traps and tranquilizers. 

Stiles had nearly been abducted at sixteen while hiding in the woods of South Carolina. He had been walking to their little rented cabin from the grocery store when he felt a pinch in his shoulder. 

He remembered feeling sluggish and light headed, saw the biologists step out from the bushes before his parents came to the rescue. They left that night while Stiles was still sedated, made their way north to Maryland. 

He only had his parents, a hotel room with bed bugs or a small den they found in the middle of the woods. He didn't have the luxury of friends or feeling safe. He never really slept -always sleeping on the alert, never fully relaxing no matter where they went. Last night, at Scott's, he hadn't been able to sleep at all in the guest bed. He had shifted, curled up into the closet stuffed with extra clothes, and even then he couldn't actually sleep. He was too worried someone would catch him off guard.   
But now, looking at the pack laughing and talking and eating without a care in the world, it made something in Stiles' chest ache. 

He didn't have anyone left. There had been times during the six week journey to California where Stiles had wanted to die, had wanted hunters to find him and put him out of his misery. But now that he was here, now that Scott was beside him, laughing and clasping Stiles' shoulder like they'd never been seperated, it made the trip worth it. 

That night, when the pack house grew silent, Stiles laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling, listening to every creak and groan of the house. Every spring of the mattress when someone rolled over in the rooms around him. 

It was nearly two in the morning when Stiles gave up trying to sleep and made his way down the stairs to the kitchen.   
He had to remind himself he was safe here now. That there were enough people around that even if ESB showed up, there was a greater possibility of escaping. 

His bare feet padded across the tile of the kitchen floor, eyes glowing a soft orange as he opened the cupboard above the sink and pulling down a mug.   
He found apple cider vinegar and lemon juice in the fridge, and a bottle of honey on the counter beside the table salt and butter. 

"Are you going to stand there like a creep or come in?" Stiles said while filling the pot with sink water. 

"Can't sleep?" Peter asked. Stiles had heard him in the living room. He had a book in hand, his finger between the pages to keep his spot. 

Stiles turned on the burner. "No," Stiles said. "You?"

Peter slid into the high top chair at the island, dog earing the corner of his page before pushing the book away. 

"Sometimes I forget the time when I'm reading," Peter confesses. Stiles nods, reaching up to grab a second mug. Stiles had never been a reader. Couldnt sit down long enough for it to get interesting. 

"What are you reading?"

Peter glanced at the book before shrugging. "Catcher in the Rhye."  
"I think I was supposed to read that in middle school," Stiles hummed, leaning against the stove to look at Peter in the dark. 

"Pretty big book for a middle schooler," Peter hummed. Stiles noted he was wearing sweat pants and a loose tshirt. His eyes had a mind of their own as they looked over what the counter wasn't hiding, and the smirk Peter sported meant he had noticed. Stiles turned his head back to the pot, seeing the water boiling. 

"You read a lot?" Stiles asked, pouring the hot water into the two mugs, back turned to Peter as he put in a cap full of apple cider vinegar into each mug. 

"Whenever I get free time," Peter answered. Stiles poured plenty of lemon juice in each as well before stirring two table spoons of honey in and grabbing the mugs. 

He placed one mug on the counter, in Peter's reach before sitting down across from him with his own. 

"What's this?"

"Sicky tea," Stiles hummed, taking a sip to test the temperature. 

"Its not tea though," Peter countered, bringing it to his nose. 

Stiles rolled his eyes. "That's just what we call it," Stiles sighed. "My mom used to make it for me if I wasn't feeling well or couldnt sleep."

Peter didn't say anything as he took a sip of his own. "Its good," he praises. Stiles doesnt know why he flushes -it's his mom's recipe, but he says thank you and takes another sip. 

The two finish their drinks in silence, and Stiles sets them both in the sink, yawning a little as he settles back into the chair, arms folded across the counter. 

"I had a question," Stiles says after a moment. Peter looks close to falling asleep too, but he nods for Stiles to ask, so he does. "Could you show me the territory lines tomorrow? I'd like to run around, but I don't wanna get lost."

"Sure," Peter nodded. "After lunch?" 

Stiles nods and the two stand up, making their way up the stairs. Stiles feels like he might be able to sleep tonight when he crawls under the thin blanket, door shut and locked. 

*-*

The next morning, Stiles is up at nine. The house is quiet, but Stiles hears a couple heart beats. He climbs out of bed, stretching and scratching at his chest as he yawns and makes his way to the dresser. 

He hadn't been able to go back to the hotel to grab the rest of his things. He had shifted out of his clothes with his parents, and by the time he shifted back, he was too far away to return for his parents or his things. But he knew. He felt it deep in his chest when each died. His mom had gone first, and seconds later, his dad. 

So Stiles had stopped in a subdivision, found a house with a doggie door and snuck into one of the bedrooms. He grabbed jeans that were a tad bit too big for him and a graphic tshirt on the floor next to a pile of folded clothes. 

He had snagged the flannel off the coat hanger on the way out the front door, and just started walking. 

Stiles wasn't ignorant to the life of a shop lifter. His family had been doing it for years, and Stiles was excellent. 

In the next town over, he snagged a bag from the chair of a college student who was too engrossed in his school paper to notice. The first thing Stiles did with said bag was ransack it in an alley. He got rid of the books and writing utensils. He found the kid's wallet, took his cash, and left with an empty back pack. 

He managed to snag a pair of discount shoes off the table of a little shoe store, and continued on his journey west. 

He filled the bag with what he managed to steal, which was mostly food. It wasn't until he reached the five week mark of his journey that he managed to find an extra pair of clothes. He didn't even care that the underwear and socks had been used when he managed to snag them off the clothesline. 

He changed quickly, ran a hand through his hair and realized a little belated that he needed a shower. He had gone without for a while. If he found a house with a doggie door and nobody was home, he'd take a shower and scurry out as soon as he could, or he'd rinse out in a river or lake. 

When he made it down stairs, a man in a police uniform was leaning against the kitchen island, spoon stirring a mug of coffee. 

"You must be Stiles," the man smiled, and he looked younger than Stiles, though the uniform would put him around the same age. 

"The one and only," Stiles managed, rubbing the last bit of sleep from his eyes. 

"I'm Jordan," he said. "Residential hellhound."

Stiles blinked. "Like, Cerberus hellhound or Crowly's invisible demon dog hellhound?"

A grin pulled the corners of Jordan's lips as he tapped the spoon against the rim of the mug. 

"Like Johnny Storm hellhound," he says. 

"Dude," Stiles gapes. "That's awesome! You gotta show me!"  
Jordan chuckled and downed half of his coffee in one go. 

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

Stiles raised an eyebrow, a smirk on his lips before he nods. "Deal," he says, making Jordan smirk back. "Though yours sounds so much cooler than mine."

"You're a 'fox right?" He asks. "Like Kira?"

"No," Stiles says with a shake of his head. "Kira is a fox spirit, I'm not a spirit. Just a regular ol' 'fox."

"That's still cool, though," Jordan shrugs. "I mean, turning into an animal is like, every twelve year old's dream."

"My dream was to change animals," Stiles confessed. "You know, instead of just turning into a fox I could turn into a bear, or a hawk or something."

Jordan finishes his coffee in another gulp. "I gotta go to work," he says, eyeing the watch on his wrist before looking up at Stiles and grinning. "I'll see you later."

"Yeah, see ya."

Once Stiles is alone, he snoops through the fridge, grabbing eggs and bacon and setting it beside a block of cheese. 

"You the new kid?"

Stiles jumps so hard he drops the bag of bread, spinning around to see a guy around his age, hair styled, jaw sharp, and eyes judging. Stiles huffs out an affirmative as he bends down to grab the bread. 

"Stiles," he says, pulling two slices out. "You?"

"Jackson."

Stiles raises an eyebrow in wait for him to say anything else, but Jackson just huffs, rolls his eyes and plops down at the kitchen island. 

The two are silent as Stiles turns on the burner, cracking two eggs into a skillet before dropping four slices of bacon into the pan.   
"What's your deal?" Jackson says just as Stiles is adding cheese to the scrambled eggs. Stiles gives him a look. 

"I don't have a deal," he shrugs, putting the items back in the fridge. 

"Everyone does," Jackson countered. Stiles brought his plate with the bread to the stove, spatulaing the eggs onto one piece and then piling the bacon over top. He adds the other piece of bread on top before sitting at the island oposite Jackson. 

"I dont have a deal," Stiles repeats, picking the breakfast sandwich up and taking a bite. 

"Uh oh."

Stiles looks up and grins at Scott in the door, looking between Jackson and Stiles. 

"'Uh oh', what, Scotty?" Stiles waggles his eyebrows. 

"You two are alone together," Scott says. Jackson rolls his eyes. "And both are still breathing."

"I would've intervened," Peter said, stepping into the kitchen. Stiles cocks an eyebrow. 

"I'm not that bad," Stiles huffs, taking another bite of his sandwich. Scott sides into the chair beside him, grinning while Peter pours himself coffee.

"You're a 'fox, and Jackson's, well, Jackson," Scott explained very unhelpfully. Even Jackson leveled Scott with a look. 

"You're both the exact same," he settles for. Stiles glances over at Jackson, the two giving each other a disbelieving once over before scoffing -nearly in unison. 

Jackson climbs out of the chair and stalks away. Stiles rolls his eyes before turning to Scott. "Really? You think I'm like that guy?"

Scott shrugs his shoulders. "I mean, come on, I'm not a douch bag am I?"

"In fifth grade you tied the teacher's shoelaces together because he gave you a D in math," Scott dead panned. Stiles gave him a shrug, taking another bite of his breakfast sandwich. 

"Doesnt mean anything."  
"You put honey all over the principal's car and covered the whole thing in dirt when the principal called your dad about your behavior."

Peter took up residence on the other side of the island, sipping at his coffee with an amused smirk. 

"You hot wired Mr. Smith's car and drove it into a tree because he told you to stop throwing your ball into his yard."

That pulled a chuckle from Peter. Stiles gave him a once over before turning to Scott with a wild gesture of his arms. 

"I'm a 'fox! If I don't start a little chaos I go out of my mind," he shifted so he was facing Scott a little more. "Besides, they all deserved it!"

"What did that girl do to deserve you cutting one of her braids off in music class?" Scott countered.   
Stiles had nothing. He worked his mouth, trying to come up with a reasonable reason to cut her hair. But honestly, he just had the urge. Who could blame him, he was eleven, and those scissors were surprisingly sharp.   
"Uh, huh, what I thought," Scott said smugly. "You're a douche bag."

"Oh, bite me," Stiles grumbled, finishing off his sandwich before heading for the sink. 

"So can we expect this type of behavior in the future?" Peter asked, turning to cock an amused eyebrow at Stiles. Stiles dropped his plate in the sink, a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned against the counter to look at Peter and Scott, fingers curling around the edge and drumming an excited beat. 

"Oh, definitely."

Peter looked down right excited, which made Stiles' smirk widen, and Scott groaned. 

"I'm so glad I don't live in the pack house."

Stiles pushed himself off the counter, making his way to Scott and clapping him on the shoulder. 

"That's funny, Scotty," Stiles grinned. He felt his 'fox tittering deep in his chest -it made him want to shift and run and maybe hunt something to sate it.  
"Thinking you're not already on my list."

He straightened, shooting a smirk at Scott brfire moving towards the living room. 

"What?" Scott squawked. "What did I do?"

"Seventh grade," Stiles called back before flopping into the chair. The TV was already on, so Stiles settled and drummed his fingers against the arm rest.   
"You're in my chair."

Stiles looked up and smirked at Peter. Scott walked over and sat on the sofa. 

"I don't see your name on it," Stiles countered, settling further. Scott cocked an eyebrow, hiding a smile behind a cough as he reached for the remote.

"Ack!" Stiles flailed a bit when Peter lifted him up off the chair, one arm under his knees and the other behind his back. 

Scott laughed when Peter dropped him onto the couch. Stiles nearly bit his tongue. 

Peter was in his seat before Stiles could sit up, and gave Stiles a smirk. 

Stiles settled, lifting his legs to rest on Peter's lap in retaliation. He cocked a challenging eyebrow, smirking a bit, but Peter didn't shove him off. Instead, he reached for the book on the end table that seperated the chair from the couch, making an L with the furniture, and started to read. 

Stiles looked at Peter a moment longer before letting his eyes drift to the TV. Wipeout reruns were playing, Scott and Stiles laughing and groaning with each hit and fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tada!! How do you like it so far??  
> If you want, I just posted my new Sterek book, Pretty Little Wolf, with Stiles being a Spark, littered in piercings and tattoos and the top! Plus we got some bad friend Scott in there and lots of sex! 
> 
> Also, Ready to Comply is finally finished! WOOHOO!! 
> 
> Let me know what you think! Give me suggestions of what you'd like to see in this book!!


	3. Chapter 3

At lunch, the three of them found themselves back in the kitchen. 

"How much territory do you have?" Stiles asked after Peter mentioned going on that run. Stiles was more than ready for it. He had enough pent up energy to run to the coast and back. 

"All of the preserve," Peter hummed, putting their plates in the sink when Stiles finished his sandwich. "And a little bit beyond."

"Cool," Stiles grinned. He was a bit nervous -so much territory, there was no way it was all protected. 

"We use the mud room," Peter said, making his way past the kitchen to the room Stiles had seen with the extra large doggie door. "Talia doesn't like when we track dirt into the house."

"Bummer, dude," Stiles grinned, walking with Scott inside. It was big enough for them all to fit comfortably, with three other people. There was a shelf full of towels and odd pieces of clothing, and what looked like a dog washing station. It made Stiles chuckle. 

He could just picture it; Scott forced to scrub down in the small tub as a wolf. 

"Ready?" Scott asked, already pulling his shirt off. Stiles nodded, going for his pants while Peter peeled off his socks. 

Stiles was the first to get undressed. He didn't have many reservations about nakedness -not like others had. Not after what he'd gone through. Privacy was a luxury the Stilinski's never could afford with the ESB and hunters breathing down their necks. 

He shifted, shaking out his orange coat as he did so.

"Awe," Scott cooed, standing in his boxers. "You're cute!"

Stiles gave him a growl, which Scott didn't find at all intimidating as he gave a playful growl back. Stiles turned his head when Scott's boxers dropped, and then he shifted as well. 

Scott's 'wolf was lean, lanky and all legs. He had the typical grey wolf coloring, a lighter belly, darker overcoat. His face was expressive with the colorings. Scott was out of the doggie door within a second, howling his excitement. If Stiles could roll his eyes in this form he would.   
Instead, he sat down, waiting for Peter. 

"Go on," Peter said, nodding his head in the direction of the door, half undressed. Stiles flicked his ears in Peter's direction before they angled to the door, where he could hear Scott letting out impatient noises. 

Stiles stood, and Peter squatted as he neared -Peter being closer to the doggie door. "I have to agree with Scott, you are very cute."

Stiles grumbled a growl, which made Peter laugh before Stiles nosed at the door flap. It was thick rubber. 

He managed to slip out, and jumped down the stairs. The instant he landed in the grass, Scott was on top of him, tail up and wagging, tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth. 

Stiles took off into a run, making sure to stay in the yard as Scott took chase. 

Stiles wanted to laugh every time he turned too fast for Scott's bigger body. Most times it ended in Scott sliding across the grass or having to skid to a halt before spinning around to chase again. 

Stiles stops when the doggie door flap moves and Peter steps out. Scott trips over Stiles' smaller form, catching a mouthful of grass as Stiles yelps and scurries away. 

Peter's wolf is more mature than Scott's. His fur is darker, more black than grey. He was fuller, his legs not gangly like Scott's. His face was fuller too. 

Scott rights himself and trots to Peter, running his side against Peter's as Peter steps off the porch. Then he's off again, bumping into Stiles and knocking him over before disappearing around the side of the house. 

Stiles grumbles and gets back to his feet just as Peter nears. He lowers his head, brushing his muzzle against Stiles' head. Stiles shudders at the feeling before Peter pushes him towards the treeline. 

Again, Stiles has to overcompensate to keep from falling over again, and then he's leaping away from teeth, a high pitched noise leaving his mouth as Peter gets a mouthful of tail fur. 

He lopes around Peter, and Scott runs back into view, jumping over Peter before running into the woods. 

It takes a moment for Stiles to react, but with another nudge from Peter, he bolted. He chases after Scott, who made more noise than a baby elephant, with Peter at his heels. 

Scott veered right, then left before jumping over a fallen tree. Stiles pulled up, growling. This fucker thought he could jump that? 

The tree was three times his height, and long. He had just turned to run around it when teeth grabbed at his neck. Stiles helped, ready to turn his head and bite when Peter lifted him off his feet. 

Stiles tucked his back legs up, tail curling up against his stomach as Peter backed up. He bolted forward and cleared the tree, Stiles still in his mouth. He hadn't been scruffed since he was still a kit, before he got too big for his parents. 

When Peter landed, he lowered Stiles back down before walking over him to where Scott was waiting. Stiles grumbled as he shook out hid coat before trotting to where Scott was. He could see the amusement in his eyes and he growled at him before nipping at his front legs.   
Scott let out an excited howl bark, jumping out of the way and dropping to his stomach.   
Stiles eyed him wearily. He was too wound up to just lay there, but Scott put his head down between his front legs. His back legs were too tense. 

Stiles stayed absolutely still, watching him. After a couple seconds, Scott's tail started to wag, his head lifting up just a little. Stiles dropped his ears, noting how Peter watched on in silence, head on his paws.   
Scott leapt up, a growl leaving his mouth as he charged at Stiles. 

Stiles dodged right, kicking off of a tree and scurrying under a bush. Scott pulled up short, not able to reach him. Stiles beamed at him, then darted out, biting Scott's back leg as he ran under him. 

Peter ended up having to get up and follow Scott and Stiles when Stiles took off deeper into the woods. 

The river came up faster than Stiles anticipated and he skidded to a halt just before he reached the water. 

He let out a squawk when Scott ran right into him, both toppling into the river. Scott could stand up in the water, but Stiles couldnt touch. He growled at Scott as he doggie paddled towards the river bank. Damn river was an instant drop off. If he was human, it would reach his thighs, but Stiles' other form was much smaller. 

Peter looked on in amusement as Stiles struggled to get out of the water. Scott jumped out easily, shaking his fur out. 

Stiles got onto the grass and shook himself out too. He hated wet fur. His fur was too thick, and it felt constricting to have his fur stick to him. 

He growled again at Scott before dropping into the grass, rubbing himself down to try and dry himself out. He's shuffling along the grass on his side when a long howl pierces through the air. The 'wolves are instantly alert. Stiles freezes, listens, and then Peter is howling back and standing to his feet. 

Scott is already out of sight when Stiles stands and shakes out his coat. Its mostly dry.   
Stiles follows Peter through the woods in an easy trot. Stiles was practically running beside Peter, the two of them ducking under fallen trees or jumping over small streams. 

When they reach the back yard, both of them freeze at the new scent. The sent of a hunter. Stiles drops to his belly, making himself small as he searches the yard. He notices a black SUV. 

Peter noses at his side before stepping into the yard and heading for the doggie door. 

After a moment, Stiles darts out from his hiding place, slipping through the door between Peter's legs and burrowing himself in one of the lower shelves. 

Peter shifts, stretching in all his naked glory and gets dressed, leaving his socks off before kneeling down in front of Stiles. 

"They're friendly, but if you want, I can take you to your room."

Stiles let's Peter pick him up and tuck him under his arm. Friendly hunters didnt exist. Even if Peter and the Hale pack trusted them enough to allow them into their home, Stiles didn't. It was safer if less people knew about him. 

Peter moved across the kitchen to the stairs, bypassing the living room where they could both hear talking, and up the stairs. Stiles didn't try to bite Peter when his fingers found the fur under his chin as he walked down the hallway. 

Peter sets him down on his bed, gives him a parting pat on the head and shuts the door behind him. 

Stiles shifts when he hears him leave and gets dressed in his other outfit. He still only has two changes of clothes, but he doesnt mind. There was a time when he didnt have any. 

The hunters stay for a long time, and when they do leave, Sriles looks out the window, seeing the older man with salt and pepper hair and a younger girl with long wavy brown hair. Father and daughter, he assumes. 

When they leave, Stiles makes his way out of his room. It's close to dinner time now, and he can smell food being cooked out at the grill. 

He walks into the living room, inhales the new scents that mix with the old ones. These new scents have hints of gun powder and metal twinged in them. 

"What did they want?" Stiles asked, seeing Talia. Peter was beside her, the two talking softly.

They both looked up at him, Peter smiling a bit. 

"They come by once a month," Talia smiles reassuringly. "They let us know what they've heard."

Stiles nods once, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He feels dirt and lint under his nails. 

"And?"

Peter smirks at him. "No one knows you're here, if that's what you're asking," he says. Stiles nods again, and relaxes his shoulders. The less people the better, he thought again.

"I actually wanted to talk with you," Talia said, moving to sit down on the couch. Stiles took that as his cue to sit as well, and he took a seat in Peter's chair, smirking a bit when he saw Peter roll his eyes and lean against the wall behind Talia. 

"What's up?"

"Well, I wanted to ask if you ever finished your schooling," Talia said, looking a little uncomfortable about asking. "The high school has classes for getting your GED, if that's something you're interested in."

Stiles frowned at that, thinking it over. He hadn't finished eight grade. He had actually been failing school since fifth grade. It probably wouldn't do him much good now. 

"I'm technically dead," Stiles settled with. "My parents made sure of it after we left."

"We could get you new papers."  
"Thanks," Stiles said, and he meant it. "But I'm not smart enough to get my GED, and getting papers is just gonna make it easier to be found."

Talia nodded, understanding and dropped the topic. Stiles appreciated it. 

"If you change your mind, I'll be here to help," she smiled, and then stood up. Stiles did as well. He wasn't expecting Talia to grab his neck and bump their foreheads together -he assumed it was a pack initiation thing, and not a do-it-after-a-conversation thing. He recovered quickly, and then Talia was walking out into the back yard, where the rest of the pack was. 

"You guys are so fucking tactile," Stiles mutters, pulling a chuckle from Peter, who walks towards the back door. 

"You'll get used to it," Peter said, placing a hand on Stiles' shoulder. Stiles is about to shrug out from under his arm to go outside when Peter leaned in a bit, brushing his hair prickled jaw against the shell of his ear. Stiles absolutely did not shudder at that at all. 

"By the way," he hummed, breath hot against his skin. "Your 'fox is magnificent."

And Stiles blushes so hard he actually stops breathing. His shoulders curve in and his head drops and he chokes a bit at the compliment that from anyone else would get a snarky reply or a bite to the hand. 

"Mieczysław!" Scott called from the back yard. Peter removed his hand, and Stiles rushed out of the house, coughing and flailing his arms to get that damn blush under control. 

Scott hasn't once called him Stiles since their reunion. He doesnt really mind -it makes him feel like at least a part of his life is back to what it was before. Plus, Stiles thinks it'd just be awkward if Scott called him anything but Mieczysław. 

It'd feel like miss Melissa telling him to call her Melissa now. Stiles just couldnt get the word out without the miss ahead of it. It felt borderline disrespectful. 

"A couple of us are going to the lake next week," Scott said once Stiles made it over to him. Jackson, Kira and Jordan were there. "Just us middle kids, if you wanna come?"

'Us middle kids' referred to the age range. Stiles learned pretty quickly that Talia, Peter, Laura, Derek and Jordan were the 'adults'.

Stiles, Scott, Jackson, Kira, Malia, and the three musketeers were the middle kids. 

Hayden, Liam, Cora, Mason, and Theo were the 'youngsters'.

"Probably not," Stiles said, wincing a bit at Scott's crestfallen expression. "I don't have a bathing suit."

"That the best excuse you can come up with, Mieczysław?" Jackson snarked. Stiles' head snapped to glare at him, a growl rumbling in his chest. 

"Don't call me that," he snaps, earning a wide eyed look from Kira and a chuckle from Scott. 

"Or what?" Jackson pushes. Stiles stares at him for a long while, both challenging the other to break off first. 

Jackson was officially added to Stiles' hit list. 

"We can go shopping," Scott said, breaking the stare off. Stiles turns to look at him, blinking the orange from his eyes and relaxing a bit. "You need more clothes anyway."

Stiles just nodded. He's planning, so he doesnt listen much to the conversation. He could dig something up about Jackson -he just needed a computer. 

When dinner is ready, Stiles and Scott make their way to the grill, where Derek and Peter are talking, divvying up the turkey legs and vegetable kabobs.

"You're not upset that I call you Mieczysław, right?" Scott asks, arm draped over Stiles' broader shoulders. 

"Not at all, Scotty," Stiles grins. The two reach for a plate, Scott not taking his arm back. "You're the only one that gets to call me that."

Scott grins at that, chest puffing out. Stiles rolls his eyes, acting like it wasnt as big a deal as Scott was making it out to be. The truth was, Stiles forgot how much he missed his name being called. His parents had insisted on removing it from their vocabulary. 

Peter dropped a turkey leg on each of their plates, and the two thanked him -Stiles appreciatively looking Peter over as he did- and took a kabob each before leaving to sit in the shade by the gigantic firepit. 

"So, you got a thing for Peter?" Scott asks, sounding uninterested as he takes a bite of broccoli from the kabob in hid hand. Stiles scowls at him, chewing a bit of his turkey leg before looking over the yard at Peter. 

"Huh?"

Scott shoots him a knowing look, grinning as he chews. "You're not at all subtle."

"I am too," Stiles scoffs, searching a laugh from Scott. Stiles is grateful the two are alone. 

"The first day you showed up you were undressing him with your eyes," Scott countered.

"I can't help it," Stiles grins. He doesnt bother trying to lie, he was caught. "Have you seen him?"

Both boys look over to where Peter is laughing at something Jordan said, standing beside Derek and Laura. 

"Dude's fucking hot."

Scott rolled his eyes, the two returning to their food. "He's at least ten years your senior."

"Age is just a number."

"That's what pedophiles say."

Stiles only waggles his eyebrows, eliciting an eyeroll from Scott. 

*-*

The next morning Stiles is woken up to a knock at the door. It's a quiet tattoo, and Stiles grunts as he climbs out of bed, wearing a shirt and purple boxers. 

He swings the door open, blurry eyed to greet Peter. "What time is it," he growls, too tired to ask it like a question. 

"Its nine," Peter grins, looking nothing but amused, before his eyes drop to take in Stiles' outfit. Stiles grunts again and turns around, knowing he's sporting a rather embarrassing boner. Its morning, and his dream was really good -sue him. 

"Nice color," Peter comments, smirking as he leaned against the doorframe. Stiles shoots him a look as he went over to a pair of jeans on the floor. It was too early to be up on a Sunday, but it was too late to go back to sleep.

"They were the cleanest pair I could find, and they're the wrong size."

He didn't add that he wasn't upset by the color. His own boxers -which were probably on some homeless man or in the trash- were colorful and decaled. He had been excited that the purple boxers had been sitting in the drawer of the house he had broken into. 

"Why are you waking me up?" He demands, stepping into the jeans and jumping to pull them up. Too tight around his middle and too short. He tucked himself in before zipping them up. 

"You need new clothes," Peter hummed, not taking his eyes off Stiles as he grabbed the only other shirt he had from the top drawer. "I'm taking you."

Stiles yanks off the old shirt and replaces it with the new one before grunting. 

"So early?"

"Early is six," Peter chuckles.   
Stiles grumbles again, sitting on his bed to pull on his socks and shoes. 

"Do we at least get to have breakfast first?" Stiles demanded. He's not a morning person, and Peter grins at him, fully aware. It just makes Stiles less of a morning person. It was Sunday. Sundays were for sleeping in til noon. 

"Coffee and donuts are waiting in the car."

"You dont want me to have coffee," Stiles warns, following Peter down the hall. He doesnt bother fixing up his hair -its a bird's nest- and scuffs his shoes as he takes the stairs.

"Isn't shopping supposed to be fun?" Stiles asks when they make it outside. "Eaking up this early on a Sunday is not my idea of fun."

"You whine too much," Peter huffs, rolling his eyes. Stiles is about to grumble back when he eyes the car parked in front. It's a dark blue Mustang -Stiles doesnt know the series- and it's running at a low purr. 

"Nice wheels," he whistles lowly. Peter preens visibly, opening the drivers side door and climbing in. Stiles gets into the passenger seat, grunting a bit at the lack of leg room. 

"Are you compensating for something, Peter?" Stiles asks, smirking as he buckles. 

"Definitely not," Peter smirks right back. Stiles gives him an unbelieving look. He knows Peter's packing. He's seen the bulge in his sweats. But Stiles is an instigator, so he can't resist. 

"Well, if you're trying to impress me with your fancy car, I'm gonna have to let you know it's not really my style."

"Oh?" Peter asks, pulling out of the large driveway and heading for town. 

"Yeah, I'm more of a classic muscle car guy. This car -although nice- just doesnt do it for me." And he's smirking the whole time he says it, pushing buttons to see how long it takes Peter to bite. 

And he does bite. He looks borderline offended at Stiles' lack of awe. 

"This is a Shelby 1000 Cobra," Peter brags. "There's only one hundred made in the world!"  
Stiles cocks an eyebrow. Must be expensive. 

"Let me guess," Stiles hums. "You have four?"

"Two actually," Peter corrects, and he's grinning again. Stiles let's out a loud laugh, throwing his head back. 

"Definitely compensating," he huffs, both of them knowing Stiles isn't really serious. 

"If you'd like to prove yourself wrong, pop the button first before unzipping," Peter replies smugly, and Stiles blinks, letting out a choked noise, smirk dropping. 

Its Peter's turn to chuckle, and the two are mostly silent as Peter drives them out of the preserve and into the rural area of Beacon Hills. 

Stiles busies himself with looking out the window at the houses that pass. Houses turn to buildings, and then Peter is pulling into a clothing store.   
It's a store that must be native to California, because Stiles' never heard of it. 

The two head inside, Stiles with his hands in his pockets. The first place Peter takes Stiles is to the underwear. 

Stiles picks out a pack of colorful boxers, and when Peter raised an eyebrow, Stiles shrugged.   
Peter nodded for the cart and he dropped them in. "Might as well get another set," Peter mused. 

"But there's eight in the pack," Stiles said, frowning a bit. "That's plenty."

There's a brief stair down and Stiles drops another pack into the cart before Peter moves them on to socks. 

"Two packs of these too," Peter hums. 

"Why? One pack is plenty," Stiles said, dropping two packs of black ankle socks into the cart. 

"You can never have enough socks and underwear," Peter said sagely, leading them to the clothes. "The dryer always eats half anyways. And if the driver doesnt get to them, they get lost in the disaster that is laundry day and they'll end up in someone else's drawers."

They spend about two hours in the clothing department, Peter picking out different shirts and Stiles nodding or shaking his head depending. 

In the end, Stiles has the whole cart full of shirts, jeans, sweats, shorts, flannels, a couple jackets and swim trunks. 

"This is a lot," Stiles whines, running a hand through his hair. He's never had that many clothes before. Even when he was younger -before he went on the run- he only had two pairs of jeans. Now he had four, on top of the other pants and shorts. 

"Its actually not," Peter said, leading the two towards the shoes. "Its about two weeks worth of clothes."

"Yeah, that's a lot."

Peter paused between the girl's flip flops and the toddler's rain boots, taking in Stiles' unsure features. 

"Stiles," he sighs. "You've got your own room in a stationary house. You need a full closet of clothes, and a full drawer of underwear."

Stiles chews the inside of his cheek, shifting from foot to foot.   
"You can hang pictures on the walls and fill your space," Peter continues. "Because it's your space now."

Stiles knows that. He knows his room is his. Talia gave it to him, told him he could paint it if he wanted. But the little voice in the back of his head reminded Sriles that it might not last. And then he'd have to pick and choose what he took with him, and what he left behind. And that was a lot to leave behind. 

"Now, quit overthinking it, and get yourself three pairs of shoes."

"I don't need three!" Stiles yelped, eyes widening. 

"Yes you do," Peter grunted, placing a hand on the back of Stiles' neck and ushering him into the men's isle. "Casual, running, summer."

Stiles let out a whine. It took a lot of huffing from Peter before he put a pair of grey running shoes, black converse and red sandals into the cart. 

Peter gave a pleased smile and Stiles sighed with relief when they left the shoe section. His relief was short lived when Peter headed towards the home decor section. 

"Peter," he whined, dropping his head back and dragging his feet. "I don't need anything here."

"Sure you do," Peter hummed. They'd need a second cart! Stiles hated this. He'd only needed two changes of clothes and one hair of shoes. 

"You need sheets, blankets, a chair and a desk, curtains maybe. Definitely a trashcan."

"That's all at the pack house," Stiles complains. 

"But it's not yours," Peter counters. Stiles grumbles when Peter leaves the cart and escorts Stiles towards the bedding. 

"The bed already has sheets and a blanket."

"Those were mine when I was a teenager," Peter said with a roll of his eyes. "You need your own."

"I'm fine using yours," Stiles mumbled, hands in his pockets and head lowering. He didn't like this. Peter was paying for all of this, and Stiles shouldn't be accepting it. Because it was only a matter of time before ESB or hunters showed up, and then Stiles would have to leave, and he'd have to leave behind the clothes and the extra shoes and the furniture. And Scott. And the Hales, and the territory. He'd have to leave Beacon Hills again, most likely for good. A whine pulled out of Stiles' chest.

Peter wrapped an arm around Stiles' shoulders, seeming to know Stiles' inner turmoil. He didn't say anything, but after a moment, he pulled away, grabbed a set of tan sheets and added them to the cart. 

The rest of the shopping was Peter. He seemed to figure out what Stiles felt, and so he took the responsibility for himself, picking out a blanket to go with the sheets, then a light blue trash can, a build it yourself office chair, and a small desk they'd also have to build themselves. That they had to put in the bottom of the cart, and then Peter lead them to the checkout. 

Stiles nearly made Peter return everything when he saw the total, actually demanded it, but Peter was already swiping the card, and Stiles felt like a piece of shit. 

"I would've been fine with what I had," Stiles mumbled as they walked out to Peter's Cobra. 

"If I hear another self deprecating remark out of that mouth of yours, I'm gonna go back in there and buy you more shit."

Stiles blinked. He couldn't hear the lie in his words, which made Stiles pause. Peter was serious. It would just make it worse, so he gave a small nod, lowering his head. Peter nodded once before opening the small as fuck trunk.

"I don't think it's all gonna fit," Stiles remarked. 

"You may be right," Peter hummed. The two stood there, staring at the trunk before Peter started shoving the bags of clothes inside. They managed to get all of them in, and put the bigger boxes behind the front seats. It left even less leg room for Stiles, and he had to sit with his knees pressed into the dashboard and his face uncomfortably close to the windshield. 

"Where are we going?" Stiles asks, frowning when he realized they weren't going back to the pack house yet. 

"One last stop," was Peter's vague reply. 

They turned into a Best Buy, and Stiles had to pump the damn breaks. 

"Peter," he warned. But Peter was already out of the car and walking towards the store. Stiles scrambled to undo his seat belt and stumbled out of the car before running after Peter.

"Peter!"

The 'wolf kept walking. Stiles growled, reaching forward and tugging on his shirt. 

"Why are we here?" Stiles demanded. 

"You need a phone," Peter responds, stopping when Stiles tugs on his shirt more firmly.

"I'm not worth all this," Stiles said, frowning at Peter. He was barely a couple inches taller than Stiles was. "Hope you know you're wasting your money."

"Self deprecation does not look good on you, kit," Peter hums. Stiles gapes at him as Peter turns around and continues into the store. 

"I'm not a kit!" Stiles shouts, catching back up with him just as Peter passed through the motion sensors doors. 

Peter ignored Stiles in favor of walking to the phones. He picks for Stiles when the 'fox doesn't pick his own -he goes for an Android, which surprises Stiles a bit. He thought Peter would be an apple guy. 

He gets a sim card, as well as a 64 GB SD card. Stiles has to bite down on his tongue to keep from arguing with Peter over everything he picks up. He doesnt need a screen protector, or a phone case. He definitely doesnt need the wireless charger -the phone comes with a corded charger already!- or the extra $20 tacked onto the already massive bill for the year warranty. 

When it's all paid for, Peter hands the bag over to Stiles, and then curls an arm around Stiles' shoulder and drags him back to the Cobra. 

"You really didn't need to buy me-"

"Say thank you, and then we can go home," Peter interrupts, pulling the door open for Stiles, who just lowers his head. 

"Thank you," he manages to get out, his back to the car and eyes drilling holes into the concrete between their feet. 

"You're welcome," Peter says, grinning as he leans forward, pressing their foreheads together. Stiles sucks in his lower lip, and then Peter is pulling back and swatting Stiles' hip to get into the car. 

He does, setting the Best Buy bag on his lap. Peter climbs in after him and then they're driving back to the preserve. 

The drive is silent save for the radio playing some new music Stiles doesn't recognize. 

When they reach the pack house, Peter calls for some help, and then hands a couple bags of clothes to Stiles. 

Jordan and Derek end up coming out to help with the rest, and then everything is in Stiles' room, and it's way too much stuff! 

Derek and Jordan leave, and Peter helps Stiles put the clothes away -hanging what needs to be in the closet and figuring out which clothes go into what drawer. 

Then, the two spend the next three hours on the floor, trying to set up the chair and the desk. The begging is left untouched on the bed, waiting for Stiles to change the sheets, but he leaves it next to the Beat Buy bag. 

He had way too much fucking stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a cover! Check it out [Here](https://super-wolf-sterek.tumblr.com/post/625829698929328128/show-chapter-archive)! 
> 
> The book is gonna pick up pace here pretty soon, I promise! How do you guys like it? Any suggestions youd want to see in the book??
> 
> Also, if you're wondering, Lydia doesn't come until later on in the book! Don't worry, I didnt forget about her!


	4. Chapter 4

It didnt take long for Stiles to figure out how to use his new phone. He spent the whole day after their shopping trip clicking on every app and every option until he knew what everything did, and then he got Scott's number. 

Scott gave him everyone else's numbers. 

He sat on Peter's chair, typing away. He was so engrossed in what he was doing, he didn't hear Peter walk in. 

"Comfy?"

Stiles jumped, clutching the phone so it didnt fall to the ground, and shot a mean look Peter's way. Peter just grins.   
"Very," Stiles hums, dipping further into the seat. 

He knew Peter was gonna pick him up and drop him on the couch, so he didnt react when Peter lifted him into the air -he just continued tyoing away on the phone. 

What he didnt expect was for Peter to sit down again with Stiles draped over his lap. 

Stiles had his back pressed into the arm rest, his legs draped off the other, and his ass in between Peter's legs. 

"What are you doing?" Stiles asked, eyeing Peter warily, tense above him.

"Sitting in my chair," Peter hummed. Stiles narrowed his eyes at him, but Peter just reached over to the end table and picked up his book. 

He settled under Stiles, resting the book on Stiles' hip and began reading. 

It took Stiles a minute before he settled as well, turning his phone on and continuing his search. 

He huffed after twenty minutes. There wasn't much on Jackson. He found the guy's Instagram, but it was private. He wasn't in any government systems that he could find. 

"Why the huff?" Peter asked, eyes still on his book. 

"I need dirt on Jackson, and I can't find any," Stiles ground out, dropping his phone on his chest and dropping his head back in a dramatic show of giving up. 

Peter chuckled, poking lightly at Stiles' jugular. 

Stiles let out a grunt, lifting his head and scowling. "Wolves and your stupid neck fixations," he grumbled, dropping his chin to cover his throat. Peter just chuckled again before he shifted. 

Stiles blushed when Peter lifted his hips, pressing his pelvis into Stiles' ass before reaching back and getting his phone out from his back pocket.

"If you want dirt on Jackson you gotta go to his Facebook," Peter hummed, turning his phone on. The book was placed pages down on Stiles' thigh. 

"Who uses Facebook anymore?" Stiles grunted. 

"People over the age of forty-five, Republicans, teenagers who haven't found Instagram yet," Peter listed. Stiles grinned, leaning closer. He could see Peter opening up a web browser, getting to Facebook. 

"Why does Jackson still have his?"

"He lost the password when he was thirteen, and just deleted the app on his phone. I'm sure he forgot about it."

Stiles grinned, leaning in closer until Peter's shoulder was pressing into his ribs, and Sriles had to place his arm on the back of the chair to keep it out of the way. 

And then Peter got to Jackson's facebook page, and got to his profile pictures. Stiles burst out laughing at the pictures as Peter scrolled. 

Man, this was better than Stiles ever thought. He assumed he'd dig up a strange middle name or find a record. Seeing pictures of prepubescent Jackson holding up peace signs with a baseball cap and sunglasses was so much better. 

"Holy shit!" Stiles yelped, shaking with laughter as Peter continued down the gallery. The pictures only got worse. Stiles was in near tears. 

"I need those!"

Peter chuckled, saving a couple of the really bad ones to his phone before texting them to Stiles. 

His phone vibrated with the incoming photos, and Stiles had to take a couple deep breaths to calm down from his laughing fit. He didn't bother reading the texts, knowing he had the ammo, he just needed the right time. 

"Are you going to tell me what Jackson did to deserve whatever it is you're going to do with those pictures?" Peter asked, sounding and looking amused. 

Stiles hummed, lifting Peter's book off his lap so he could readjust. He moved so his ass was closer to the arm rest, legs draped over Peter's, and his arm hooked over Peter's closest shoulder. 

Peter had one arm draped over Stiles' legs, the other pressed into his back. 

"He called me by my birth name," Stiles said. "And butchered it. He pronounced it like me-chi-slaw, like coleslaw." Stiles made a face, Peter laughed. 

"Scott's the only one who can call me that," Stiles continued. "And Jackson knew that and said it to get under my skin."

"So to prove he didn't get under your skin, you've spent how many hours scrounging the internet for anything you can use to get back at him?"

Stiles smirked. "Exactly."

Peter nodded, as if that logic made total sense. To Stiles, it did. Stiles was mischievous, a trickster and a prankster. He thrived on chaos and a little madness. So, he took any opportunity he got to feed his little foxy needs.

"How do you pronounce your name then?" Peter asked after the two settled again. 

Stiles huffed, rolling his eyes in a put upon fashion. 

"Mieczysław," he said. "Like me-chi-slav. There's a definite V there at the end. Without the V my name sounds like a side dish."

"Is it Russian?" Peter asked, sounding genuinely curious. 

"Nah," Stiles grinned, shaking his head. "Its Polish. Unfortunately, both parents were Polish, so I got stuck with my very conservative grandfather's name, high cheek bones, pale skin, and enough leg to fill the entire couch, and then some."

To prove it, Stiles stretched his legs straight, pointing his socked toes. "I would've gotten the sharp nose, blue eyes and blonde hair, but my grandmother on my mom's side was twenty-five percent Turkish, so I got stuck with brown, like my mom."

"Do you speak Polish?"

"I know some, and I can count to ten," Stiles grins. His grandfather on his dad's side had taught him before he got dementia when Stiles was about eight. He had wanted to learn more, but by then the dementia had kicked into it's late stages, and the man didn't recognize any of them. 

His dad wasn't very fluent, and his mom had promised to teach him, but then Stiles turned thirteen and his world kind of got flipped sideways, and learning Polish just wasn't an option. 

"What can you say?" Peter asked. 

"I know most swear words," Stiles hummed. Peter made an 'of course' grunt, which made Stiles grin. "A couple sentences here and there."

"Like?" Peter pushed. 

"Gdzie jest łazienka," Stiles said, grin still plastered on his face. 

"What does that mean?"

"Where's the bathroom."

The two broke out into a chuckle. Stiles turned his head at the sound of a familiar engine and groaned, dropping his head back so it was hanging off the chair. 

"I forgot about the lake," he grunted. "I get to spend all afternoon with Jackson." Peter chuckled, curling an arm under Stiles' legs and under his back. He lifted his head, tensing when Peter stood and tossed him to the couch. 

"You'll live," Peter said, dog earing his spot in the book before setting it on the end table. Stiles got to his feet just as the door opened. 

"Mieczysław! Let's go!" Scott yelled from the front door. 

"Scott! I'm not deaf!" Stiles shouted back before climbing the stairs to grab his trunks. 

He quickly changed, leaving his phone on the bed and taking a towel before making his way back down stairs and bumping into Scott. 

"Ready?"

Scott bounced on his heels and grinned like a puppy. Stiles rolled his eyes, but grinned as Scott lead him by the shoulders to the awaiting car. Kira, Jackson and Malia already in the back seat. 

"Erica, Boyd and Issac are meeting us there," Scott said, jumping into the drivers seat. Stiles got into the passenger seat, surprised it was even vacant.   
The drive through the preserve was full of winding turns, large pot holes, upturned roots and loud conversation. 

Stiles added onto the conversation a few times, but otherwise was silent, listening to the ramblings of the others and watching the trees go by. 

They reached Bwacon Lake in about an hour -they had to drive slow due to the road being nothing more than a path for four wheelers or dirt bikes. 

The whole car spilled out when Scott parked next to the grey Pontiac. 

Stiles could hear the three musketeers already splashing in the water, and he watched with a grin as Kira and Malia took off in a sprint towards the lake, disrobbing until they were in their bathing suits. 

They ran across the small dock and jumped in -Kira first, with Malia right on her heels. 

Scott shoved Stiles into motion, the two of them not quite running to the lake while Jackson took his time. 

Stiles couldnt remember the last time he went swimming. Actually swimming -for fun.

He'd been in the water plenty of times; wading through rivers to hide their scents, jumping off cliffs to loose hunters. There was a couple times his family had to choose between dying in a forest fire and drowning at the end of a waterfall. None of them ended up drowning, but Stiles had hacked up both his lungs and about ten gallons of water for a good forty-five minutes after. 

Stiles watched as Malia and Kira jumped off the small dock, shouting the whole time. Scott wasn't too far behind them. Even Jackson ran past to jump in when he got close enough. 

"Come on, Mieczysław!" Scott yelped, just before Malia shoved him under the water. Boyd made a dive for Issac, who screeched in his attempt at escape. Stiles yanked his shirt off and ran to the edge of the dock. He landed in the cold water inches from Scott, and when he surfaced, Scott was sputtering and wiping his face. 

It had been so long since he'd been able to have fun outside, and during their swim, Stiles found himself checking his surroundings every few minutes, listening for anything other than his friends laughing and splashing. Scenting the air for something out of place. Eyes flitting through the trees for odd shapes that didnt belong. 

"You don't need to keep doing that," Erica had said once, Sriles sitting on the dock beside her while the others lazed around in the water. Stiles had pulled away from the conversation to do his search of the woods around them. 

When he turned to face Erica, he noticed everyone else was watching him too. 

"You can relax," she said. "No one's going to hurt you here. Besides, there's more than enough of us to take down any hunter that's stupid enough to step foot on Hale land."

"Sorry," Stiles said, forcing a smile. "Its just habit." And it was. Because if Stiles wasn't alert, he was dead, or worse. 

"Don't worry, it took Jackson a while to relax too," Erica smiled. Jackson gave an indignant sound, rolling his eyes and swimming off on his back. 

"We could play a game," Kira suggested, arms wrapped tightly around Scott's shoulders from behind. 

"Oh, you remember that game we used to play back in school?" Scott grinned, looking up at Stiles from the water. 

"Heads up, seven up or truth or dare?" Stiles asked. He didn't think playing heads up in a lake would work very well, but he had to be a little shit. 

"I could go for truth or dare," Issac grinned. 

"We don't have booze," Jackson reminded the group, still floating on his back with his eyes closed. 

"You don't need booze," Erica rolled her eyes. "Let's play!"

And that's how Stiles found himself in the water, surrounded by the 'wolves, Kira and Jackson. 

They kept it pretty PG for a while, getting a feel for each other before Jackson gets a little bold. 

"Kira, truth or dare."

"Truth."

Kira wasn't one to pick dares. Especially after Boyd dared Stiles to jump into the lake from the tall tree that shaded their part of the lake. 

"Have you and Scott gone to third base yet?" He smirked while Kira sputtered, eyes wide. Scott choked on the water he inhaled due to having half his face underwater. 

Stiles couldn't help but burst into a fit of laughter with Erica and Issac close behind. Kira gave a mumbled answer that avoided actually answering the question, a rambling mess of hot cheeks and embarrassment. 

The game went on. It got closer to PG-13 the longer they played, getting into skinny dipping and sex life territory. 

"Stiles, truth or dare," Erica grinned. Stiles had been picking dares the whole game -save for the one time he picked truth when Scott asked. 

He didn't like the way she grinned at him -like either one he picked, she had something lined up. 

"Truth," he hummed, his arms moving slowly in the water around him. 

"What's your body count?"

"Elaborate body count," Stiles grinned back, making Kira and Issac sputter. Even Scott looked a little uneasy. "If we're talking about sex, the answer is zero."

"What about the other one?" Issac asked. 

"If I told you that number, itd increase by six."

"Come on," Jackson huffed with a roll of his eyes. "Its not surprising you're a virgin, but killing people? You don't have it in you."

"Watch it, Jackson," Stiles growled. Stiles has in fact killed people. Many. He wasn't proud of it, but it was either him or them. 

"When you're hunted, sometimes you gotta get your hands dirty," Stiles hummed, sounding dismissive in his tone. "And I didn't really have time for sex between the running and the hiding."

"Well, I'll sex you up if you want," Erica grinned. 

"Awe, that's so sweet," Stiles grinned back, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "Unfortunately I don't swing that way."

Scott let out a huff, rolling his eyes. "He's already got his sights on someone else."

"Who?" Kira asked, the whole group looking very interested now. Even Jackson and Boyd looked like they wanted to know. 

"Peter," Scott answered before Stiles could. 

"What?" Half the group proclaimed. Stiles laughed, shrugging his shoulders. 

"How can you like Peter?" Malia asked, sounding beyond grossed out. It made Stiles' grin widen. 

"Have you seen him?" Stiles asked, just as Erica said the same thing. Stiles broke out into laughter. 

"I think you're scarring her," Scott laughed, taking in Malia's pained face. 

"Yeah, can we please change the subject?" Malia nearly begged. It was a unanimous agreement, and the group swam and played for another three hours before the sun started to go down and a howl called through the air. 

"That boss lady?" Stiles asked, climbing onto the dock. He shook his hair out before helping Kira up. 

"Yeah," Issac answered, handing out towels. "She does that when the sun starts setting. Makes sure everyone is home before dark."

"I'm starving," Scott groaned, towel wrapped around his shoulders. He looked like a drowned puppy with his hair dripping into his eyes. Stiles grunted in amusement, his own towel resting over his head. The group headed to their respective cars, all tired from the afternoon at the lake. 

When they got home, Stiles made a beeline for the kitchen while everyone else ran for a bathroom to shower. 

"Have fun?" 

Stiles glanced over to see Talia, Peter and Jordan sitting at the kitchen table, papers strewn between them. 

"Oh yeah," Stiles grinned, dropping the towel onto the stool by the island as he went to the fridge. 

"There's a sandwich in there," Jordan commented. "I made it for my shift but never ended up eating it."

Stiles grabbed it, his stomach growling. "Thanks." He hummed, taking it out of the zip lock baggie and taking a big bite. "What are you guys working on?"

"Plans for a couple pack houses," Peter said. Stiles leaned against the island, ankles crossed as he brought the sandwich to his mouth again. "Its getting a little crowded in here."

On cue, Hayden ran passed with a very pissed off Liam on her tail, almost knocking the sandwich out of Stiles' hands. She was giggling like crazy, and a few seconds later, all four of them heard the screen door slam shut. 

"Are the new houses going to be as big as this one?" Stiles asked, finishing off his sandwich. He noticed Peter look him over, stopping at Stiles' fuzzy happy trail. He tapped his fingers on the counter behind him, fighting off the grin. 

"No, they'll be big enough to house two or three pack mates," Talia said. "At the moment, we're working on three houses."

"Who gets dibs?"

"Oldest," Jordan grinned. Stiles rolled his eyes good naturedly. 

"We want to keep you in the main house," Talia continued. "The rares would be safer here, instead of in the smaller houses."

Stiles nodded. It made sense, and Stiles wasn't too worried about it. He had a roof over his head, he didnt really care if it was in the main house or not. 

The three at the table continued talking about house placement and layout, so Stiles made his way upstairs to his room. 

He peeled his trunks off and dropped them in the corner of his room where the rest of his dirty clothes were. He could shower in the morning. He pulled on his boxers and a pair of sweats before tugging a shirt over his head. 

It was well after dinner, Stiles was sitting in Peter's chair again, when he decided to use those pictures of Jackson. He opened up a group chat with the numbers he had in his phone -the whole pack had been added at some point. 

Peter came in and sighed before scooping Stiles up and sitting down with Stiles in his lap again. Stiles couldnt help but grin at him before settling down against his shoulder. 

Peter's arm curled around his hips, thumb pressing into his side under his shirt. 

"What are you planning, Mischief?" Peter hummed. Stiles glanced over at him with a grin, their noses nearly brushing. 

"Revenge," he said with a shrug before turning back to his phone. Peter placed his chin on Stiles' shoulder. 

He added the image to the group chat -the one where Jackson looks about twelve. He's got a bowl cut with glasses and a red sweater. He's holding a baseball bat over one shoulder with the words Louisville Slugger written down the side. 

Peter chuckled at the image just as Stiles pressed send. The two watched silently as the image loaded, then delivered. 

"Now we wait," Stiles hummed. "Got any good hiding places?"

Peter hummed in thought, chin never leaving Stiles' shoulder. "Jackson doesn't have our nose, so he can't track you. You could hide in the woods."

"Any places inside?" Stiles asked. "I don't think this is going to end very soon."

He sounded way too excited by that prospect than a twenty-three year old should, but Stiles couldnt help it. 

"The only place Jackson wouldnt look is Talia, Derek, Laura and my rooms," Peter said. "But if you went into them, we'd know."

Stiles gets interrupted by a shrill laugh coming from Erica in the kitchen, and Stiles grins. He turns to Peter again, both of them much closer than they should be, but neither of them caring to pull away. 

"Don't snitch if you smell me in your room," he says. Peter smirks, the arm around Stiles' hips pulling him a little closer. 

"Wouldn't dream of it," Peter said softly. "I'm pretty sure I'm an accomplice anyway."

"Definitely," Stiles replied, eyes dropping to Peter's lips before meeting his eyes again. "If it weren't for you I wouldn't have the pictures. I'll be sure to tell Jackson if I get thrown under the bus."

Their tones had grown hushed at some point -Stiles didn't know when. He leaned forward a little, eyes dropping to Peter's lips again. 

Stiles inhales, and then leans forward a little more, brushing his lips against Peter's. He couldnt fight off the smirk when Peter surged forward, smashing their lips together into an actual kiss, arms curling around Stiles to pull him closer. 

Stiles was angled with his legs straddling one of Peter's, his arm pressed into Peter's chest, and head angled to the side. He lifted an arm to place a hand on Peter's jaw -it was all he could manage in the position he was. 

"Stiles!"

Stiles pulled away with a smack of their lips, grinning widely as he heard footsteps down the stairs. 

"That's my cue," Stiles grinned. Peter chuckled as Stiles jumped out of his lap, taking off to the opposite side of the house. 

"Where the fuck did he go?" Jackson demanded in the kitchen. Stiles held back a cackle and rounded to the front of the house. 

He bolted through the living room again, passing Peter, who had picked up his book. Jackson spotted him passing the foyer for the stairs and cursed at him before running after him. 

Everyone in the kitchen laughed loudly. Stiles joined in as he reached the top of the stairs, heading for his room with Jackson hot on his heels. 

He slammed the door just as Jackson ran into it, resulting in the frame shaking. Stiles easily locked the door before Jackson could start jiggling thr handle. 

"Stiles open this fucking door!" Jackson demanded. "I swear to god I'm going to kill you!"

"Why would I open the door then?" Stiles asked, leaning against the door on the off chance that Jackson broke through. It didnt seem likely, Talia had said they built the house with supernatural strength in mind. The locks would hold. 

"You can't stay in there forever!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got my sister into watching teen wolf, and before she started watching I gave her my take on each of the characters. I guess I made Peter seem a lot more redeemable than he actually was because we're in season 5b and my sister is asking me where his "redeeming character arch" is and honestly I think I've sunk too far into fanon Peter, because I could've sworn canon Peter wasn't this much of an asshole 😂 I was wrong.   
> Anywho! Here's a sort of filler chapter! Let me know what you think and how you like it!!


	5. Chapter 5

The following morning, Peter yawns as he makes his way down to thr kitchen. He's spent most of the day finishing a book that he could've waited to finish in the morning. 

But when he realized he only had a hundred pages left and it was only two in the morning, he figured it wouldn't take him long to finish. He didnt end up going to bed until close to five, and now it was eight, and if Peter wanted to last until the afternoon, he was going to need his coffee strong. 

The day is pretty uneventful. He makes himself breakfast, talks with Jordan and Laura before they head out for work, and then makes his way to his chair. He's just about to sit when a sharp pinch to his ass and a growl gets him standing again. 

"Stiles," Peter huffs, seeing the 'fox curled in his chair, head lifted up to curl his lips at Peter. Stiles licks his nose, letting his fluffy tail thump against the cushion.

"You're cleaning all that fur up," he scolds. Stiles doesnt look the least bit worried as he drops his head back down on the cushion, his front paws tucked under his chest. 

Peter grunted with a roll of his eyes before reaching down and curling a hand under Stiles. He gets a growl in response, but Peter just lifts him into the air and takes his seat. 

He sets Stiles down on his lap, and after an unimpressed look from the 'fox, he curls up and settles with a sigh. 

Peter runs his hand from the top of his head down to his tail, earning a shiver from Stiles when he reaches the spot just before his tail starts. 

The two sit like that for the rest of the morning, Stiles sleeping on Peter while Peter reads and checks his emails. His mind flashes back to the night before, when Stiles had kissed him. 

It wasn't a surprise -to either of them, he assumes- Peter had caught Stiles eyeing him from day one, and he knows Stiles noticed him looking too. Not to mention the way Stiles' want seemed to grow strong whenever Peter was in the same room as him. 

Peter's absentmindedly running fingers through Stiles' fur near his shoulder blades as he reads a Vince Flynn novel. He doesn't hear Derek come in from the back door, but Stiles lifts his head, ears perked. 

Peter pauses in his reading, looking down at Stiles, who's honey whiskey eyes are staring intently at the kitchen. 

When he sees its Derek, he settles again, nuzzling his muzzle into Peter's thigh. 

When the rest of the house starts trickling in, their small and quiet world shatters. Peter sighs, setting the book down on the end table. 

Stiles stands on his lap, stretching and yawning, showing off his teeth before shaking himself. 

He gets a tail wag and a high pitched cackling noise when Peter grunts at the fur settling onto him. 

Peter cards his fingers through the thick fur around his throat -a layer of protection around a vulnerable area- and grins when Stiles doesn't bite him for it. 

Instead, Stiles stands on his hind legs with his front paws pressed into Peter's collar bones, brushing his cold nose against Peter's cheek before jumping down. 

Peter watches as Stiles darts to the mud room, then runs back to him. He vocalizes before darting off again. 

"Fine, fine," Peter huffs, climbing out of his chair. He gets an excited bounce out of Stiles and be takes off through the doggie door that's much too big for him. 

Peter takes his time undressing, folding his clothes and shoving them into his cubby before shifting and darting out after Stiles. 

He finds him sniffing at one of Talia's potted plants and trots over to him, taking in how his long black legs move like liquid, his bushy tail hanging lazily above the ground. 

His ear twitches in Peter's direction and he jumps into action, running around Peter and gekkering. Peter drops his front paws in a gesture of play. 

Stiles jumps towards him, biting at his extended paws before taking off before Peter can lunge. The two take off into the woods, Stiles' smaller form having to jump over different obstacles that Peter only needs to step over. 

The two dont bother being quiet -growling and howling and gekkering. They dance around each other, Stiles weaving between Peter's legs, Peter rushing ahead for Stiles to chase. 

They reach the river, and Stiles stops, darting across the rock river bank. Peter slows to a trot, meeting Stiles and dropping his head to nuzzle against his side. 

The two spend some time by the river, Stiles with his nose to the ground, and Peter laying his snout on his paws. 

He watches with amusement as Stiles catches the scent of a rabbit not far from where the two are. Stiles stills, ears forward and alert as he drops slowly to his stomach. 

Everything is quiet around them, and then all at once, like the crack of a starting gun, they're off. Stiles bolts forward, and the rabbit does the same, at nearly the same time. 

Peter watches as Stiles turns with the rabbit, blocking off its escape at every turn, driving it towards where Peter was. 

When he was close, Stiles pounced, his body seeming to hold in the air for a second before dropping on the bunny nearly half his size. 

The animal screamed, struggling as Stiles bit down on it's wind pipe with his tiny mouth and razor sharp teeth. 

Peter continued to watch the two wrestle across the rocks, the bunny much bigger than the ones Stiles is used to catching. 

It takes a couple minutes before the animal stops moving -Stiles growling the whole time in a high pitch. 

After the two are still for a moment, Stiles releases his hold on the bunny, licking his lips before looking at Peter with a wag of his bushy tail. 

Peter let's out a howl-bark and Stiles grabs the rabbit by the ears and drags it backwards towards him. 

Peter gets a face full of tail before Stiles has the bunny placed between his legs. He drops onto his tummy in a similar fashion as Peter, across from him with the rabbit between them. 

Peter thumps his tail on the rocks as the two share the rabbit. They pick at the fur, spitting it out until the rabbit is mostly hairless and then dig in. 

It's the first time Peter's shared a kill with someone other than his nieces and nephew. 

After they finished, Peter chased Stiles back towards home. Stiles was fast for a little thing, and ended up beating Peter into the house. He was already mostly dressed by the time Peter walked into the mud room. 

He was just pulling his shirt down, hiding that fuzzy little happy trail when Peter shifted back. 

"Have fun?" Stiles asked, cheeks still flushed from the time outside. Peter hummed, stepping into his boxers. He didnt miss the look over Stiles was giving him, and he looked into the kitchen to see who was within looking distance. 

He walked over to Stiles, caging the young 'fox against the cubbies. Stiles looked a little surprised, but not against it as Peter pressed their fronts together and captured his lips. 

Stiles kissed back tentatively, hands at his sides. He was new to this, Peter realized, pulling back to smirk at him. 

Stiles breathed, eyes slightly dazed, before they met Peter's. "I had fun," he said, stepping back from Stiles before moving back to his pile of clothes. 

Stiles cleared his throat before stepping out of the mud room. Peter finished getting dressed before making himself a cup of coffee. 

He wasnt surprised when he saw Stiles sitting in his chair, but instead of moving him like he usually did, he sat on him, pinning him to the cushions. He let out a squawk, hitting his back with his palms. 

"Get off me you overgrown lap dog!" Stiles growled. Peter just got more comfortable, grabbing his book from the end table. Stiles' face was pressed into his shoulder blade as he leaned back. 

"I think you're sitting on someone," Scott grinned, walking into the room and grinning at Stiles' flailing arms behind him. 

"I wondered why my chair felt different," Peter mused, glancing behind him to smirk at Stiles, who growled in return. 

Scott just grinned before sitting on the couch and turning on the tv. 

"You're a real great friend, Scotty," Stiles growled, sending daggers his way. 

"Hey, not my problem you keep sitting in his chair."

Stiles just scoffed. After a couple more minutes of leaning into him, Peter shifted, draping his leg over the arm rest, his back pressing into the side of the chair. 

Stiles didn't try to get him off, just settled with him as Peter opened his book and began reading. 

Stiles turned his attention to the TV, fingers playing with the hem of Peter's shirt absentmindedly. He feels Stiles' other hand on the arm rest behind him, fingers thrumming an unfamiliar beat. 

After a couple pages, he felt Stiles' let start to pounce under him. His heel lifting off the floor before dropping back down in a quick rhythm. 

Peter ignored it for all of five words before he sighed and looked over at him. 

"Stop bouncing," Peter demanded. He could tell Scott found it amusing. Assumed this was a normal thing for Stiles. The leg bouncing and the finger tapping. 

"Hey, if you don't like it you can move," Stiles grumbled, not stopping. 

A couple more seconds, and Peter sighed, the bouncing and tapping driving him crazy. He dog ears the page he's on and sets the book down before shifting on Stiles' lap. 

Peter grabs either side of his head, angling it before smashing their mouths together. The tapping and bouncing stop as Stiles freezes. 

Peter pulls away, and Stiles' cheeks are flamed red. Scott clears his throat behind him, and Peter shifts again and picks up his book, smiling to himself. Stiles doesn't move after that, just sits there a bit in shock, staring at Peter for a moment before going back to watching the TV. 

A couple seconds later and Peter's distracted again. Only this time it's not because of Stiles bouncing his leg. The kid is shifting under him, and his scent is growing heady. 

"Ew, guys, gross," Scott whines. 

"Shut up, Scott," Stiles snaps, but Peter can see the pink on his cheeks. Peter decides to give him a break, setting the book down and standing up in the guise of getting something to eat. 

"How long has that been going on?" He hears Scott press softly. Stiles makes a noise and is standing up. 

"I don't know, like a day?" Stiles answers. "Fuck off, Scott I don't want to see that look on your face ever again."

Peter hears Scott laugh and Stiles leave the room. When he returns with a couple cookies, Scott is still sitting on the couch, and Peter's chair is empty. 

*-*

Three days pass, and Stiles catches Peter whenever he can. When Peter's in the kitchen, Stiles shows up and kisses him before leaving. When he's reading in his chair, Stiles sits on his lap, and if Stiles is there first, it's where he ends up when Peter comes in. 

Neither say anything about it, and it doesn't go further than kissing, and no one at the house seems to say anything, though Peter knows everyone knows. 

Peter is sitting at the island with a coffee and the newspaper, and Stiles is standing across from him, constructing a sandwich. Jordan is sipping at his coffee in uniform, talking to Stiles about his many adventures in law enforcement. 

"I went through seven uniforms the first year," Jordan was saying, talking about when he first found out about his abilities. 

"I still gotta see you 'flame on'," Stiles says, slapping the top piece of bread on the sandwich. 

"Maybe later," Jordan said before finishing up the coffee and setting the mug in the sink. "Gotta go."

"Later," Stiles calls. 

"Have a good day at work," Peter hums. Jordan rushes out of the kitchen and to the cruiser. 

Stiles slides into the seat opposite Peter, giving him a once over before grinning and taking a bite of his sandwich. 

"What's the look for?" Peter demanded, taking another sip of his coffee. 

"Nothin'," he shrugs, continuing to eat his sandwich. Peter doesnt push it. When Stiles finishes his sandwich, he gets up, ready to take his plate to the sink when Jaxksom strolls in. 

Peter raises an eyebrow but doesnt say anything as he moved quickly, knicking Stiles in the arm as he passes. 

"Real mature, Jackson," Stiles growls, eyes flashing orange. Jackson turns, raising an eyebrow and folding his arms. "You cut my favorite shirt."

Peter sighs and gets to his feet just as Stiles drops the plate. It's all Jackson needs -he spins around and walks out of the kitchen. 

"What the fuck?" Stiles blinks, looking down at his hands. 

Peter easily loops his arm under Stiles' just as his legs give out, keeping him from hitting the floor. 

"What the fuck did he do?" Stiles growls, head falling back. Peter chuckles, sweeping his legs up before heading for the stairs. 

"He's a Kanima, Stiles," Peter hummed. "He's a walking paralytic."

"Fuck," Stiles groaned, body limp in Peter's hold. "Why didnt you tell me before I posted that picture?"

"Because you wouldve done it anyway," Peter said, carrying Stiles to his room. He's not really been in here for a while -not since the shopping trip. He kicks the door open and raises an eyebrow. 

"I can feel your judgement," Stiles growled. "Its my den, I can do what I want."

Stiles had moved his bed to the corner of the room, the desk was pushed under the window with a pillow on top, and the dresser was pressed against the side of the bed, leaving only a foot of room for Stiles to actually get into the bed. 

He had clothes on the floor and pulling up on the chair, and his closet had blankets on the floor. 

"Why, exactly, is all your furniture in one corner of the room?" Peter asked, moving to the bed. He decided to just climb into the bed, instead of trying to lean over the squat dresser. 

"The room is too big," Stiles huffed, cheeks growing pink in embarrassment. Peter got him on thr bed, and started adjusting him so he wasnt in an uncomfortable position. 

"Plus," he continued. "Its a 'fox thing."

"How?"

"'Foxes like small places," Stiles said. "Being able to feel walls on all sides while we sleep makes us feel safe."

"Why the blankets in the closet?" Peter asked, adjusting Stiles' legs before sitting on the bed beside him, back leaned against the wall. 

"Sometimes I sleep in there," Sriles said. "There's another den under the bed."

"And the pillow on the desk?"

"My sun spot," Stiles grumbled. Peter just chuckled. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes. 

"So how long does this last?" Stiles asked. 

"Few hours," Peter answered. "He didn't cut you deep so I'd say you'll get feeling back around noon."

"Awesome," Stiles deadpanned. "I'm so getting him back for this."

Peter opened an eye, looking down at Stiles. "You've got a few more pictures."

"No, I'm pulling a Parent Trap," Stiles said with finality. Peter blinked, unfamiliar with the name. 

"You do that," he hummed. "I'm not being an accomplice this round."

"Wuss."

Peter juts out his foot, kicking Stiles in the hip, but keeping his eyes closed. 

"Jokes on you I cant feel that."

*-*

"We've got contractors coming in later this week," Talia said, upper body leaning over her desk. Peter was leaning against the side of the chair, arms folded as he watched her point to one of the three spots they'd marked for the houses. 

"I'll be there to keep an eye on them, and we'll get the trees knocked down, I'll need you and the kids to keep an eye on everything -especially because of the full moon."

"The kids have pretty good control," Peter reminded. "Malia and Liam havent needed the basement in a few months."

"Still, I'd feel better leaving if you kept an eye on them," Talia sighed. Peter nodded. Talia had always been here during the full moon, spend the week with her pack, keeping them calm and relaxed while the full moon grew closer. 

For most of them, this would be the first full moon without her, but she needed to oversee the housing development. Three houses were to be built before winter, all about a mile or two away from the main house, and spread far enough apart from each other to give their occupants some privacy. 

Peter was planning on moving into one of them. Laura and Jordan had already decided on rooming together -Peter's pretty sure they're a thing- and Derek wanted his own place too, though he's already invited Issac and Boyd to move in with him. 

Peter decides his own house will be built for one. He needs his own place, so Talia agreed to a small cabin of sorts, open concept with a bathroom and kitchen. Peter likes the idea of a loft concept, being able to stuff a bed, a couch and a table all in one room. 

"Should probably call the kids back," Peter hums, looking outside. The sun was setting. Most of the kids frolicked in the preserve after their school or job, to let off steam and bond. 

Peter had been pleased when Hayden had snatched Stiles up off his lap, demanding he play with her and the others. Stiles had barely gotten a word in before he was being dragged outside. 

Peter had watched him step off the porch with his hands in his pockets, and then chuckled when Hayden ran into his legs, nearly toppling him over before chasing after Liam. 

Hayden was the fastest shifter in the pack, with the longest legs. Both forms were similar. Her human face was small, little nose, little mouth, wide eyes. Her cheetah was the same, small muzzle, wide eyes. 

He moved to the office when Stiles and Scott followed the small pack of animals into the woods, talking animatedly. 

"Oh," Talia sighed, glancing outside too, surprised at the amount of time that'd gone by. 

"Chris wanted to talk, so I'm going to head out and see what he wants," Peter said, remembering the text message earlier this morning. "Something about ESB chatter."

"Okay, take someone with you," Talia nodded. Even if Chris and his daughter Allison were allies, Talia didnt truly trust them. They still had family with their hands pretty deep in the hunting world, and even a couple working with the ESB. 

Peter nodded and left the office. He found Laura in the library, bribing her to join with a trip to the ice cream parlor after. She readily climbed off her window seat and they headed out just as they heard Talia calling the pack back. 

The drive into town takes almost half an hour, and another twenty minutes to get to Chris' neighborhood. Peter made it a point to memorize where they lived, on the off chance they betrayed the pack and had to be put down. 

It was his job, as pack enforcer, to ensure the pack's safety. The sun was still setting them he pulled into the driveway, and he and Laura climbed out. 

The door was already opened when they reached the steps, so Peter let himself in. 

"In the kitchen," Chris called. The two 'wolves made their way back, and took up a seat across from Chris at the dinner table. 

"What's the news?" Peter asked, settling into the chair and looking around the kitchen before his eyes landed back on Chris. Allison wasn't home. Peter could only hear three heartbeats. 

"There was a case in Maine last night," Chris scowled. "A pack was attacked just off the coast. A small pack, but they had a Hellhound."

"Wait, you're saying they attacked a pack for their hellhound?" Laura asked in shock. It wasn't how the ESB operated. They didnt attack whole packs, they waited until whoever it is they were looking for was alone. 

"Hellhounds are just as endangered as banshees," Chris said. "They're growing their programs, want to do more research and start more breeding programs. From what I've heard they're not having very much luck."

"They're not fucking animals," Peter growled, eyes flashing blue at the thought. "Of course they're breeding programs arent working out."

"This isn't why I called you here," Cheis said with a heavy sigh. "They're getting brave, stepping into the light and actively finding rares. Which means your pack isnt safe."

"Its never been safe," Peter snapped. 

"You've got the most rares in the country," Chris continued, unperturbed by Peter's snarling. "And everyone knows it. If the ESB get desperate enough, they might come knocking."

"Thank you for the heads up," Peter says. "I'll let Talia know. Please keep us informed."

"Will do."

Peter stands up, ushering Laura ahead of him and out the door. Most of their meetings were short and simple. Chris gave them what he heard, Peter told Talia, and then the two of them dig deeper. 

This news wasnt something Peter expected, and he drives back home in silence. He stops for Laura to get her ice cream. 

"What are we going to do?" Laura asked softly. 

Peter doesnt answer her because he honestly doesnt know. Hes only the muscle. Talia was the brains. 

Peter's frown deepens when he pulls into the driveway of the house. Talia is on the porch with Derek, and there are a couple of the older pack mates with them. 

"What's going on?" Peter demands, slamming the door shut. Jordan is still in uniform, and he's disappearing into the woods. 

"Theo and Stiles haven't come home yet," Talia answers, worry clear in her voice.

Peter pauses, and looks at Laura when she makes a noise in the back of her throat. 

"Chris said the ESB attacked a pack in Maine for their hellhound," Peter said, climbing the steps to the porch. 

"We have to find them," Laura whined. Theo was like a younger brother to her. And Stiles was very important to Peter -whether they talked about it or not. 

"Okay," Talia nodded. "Peter, you and Derek stay with the rares. I'll take everyone else into the woods."

Peter nodded. He wanted to go with them, wanted to find Stiles and make sure he was okay. But they had Hayden, Jordan, Jackson, Cory and Malia to worry about too. 

Jordan came back from the edge of the woods, scowling when Talia told him he'd be staying inside. 

It didn't take long for Talia to round up the pack, leaving behind the rares and Liam before disappearing into the woods. 

The ones that could shift did, the rest moving on foot. It was pitch black out, and Peter paced the living room. 

"Is everything alright?" Jackson asked. He looked uninterested as he leaned against the door frame, but Peter could hear the fast beating of his heartbeat and see the tenseness of his shoulders. 

"Everythings fine," Peter managed. 

"You're pacing," Jackson comments. "You don't pace."

"We're just worried," Peter sighs, stopping his trek through the living room. "Theres been a rise in ESB activity, and Chris warned about a small hunting party not long ago."

Jackson nods, looking down. He hesitates before leaving, climbing the stairs to his room. Everyone else is in their rooms too, except for Derek, who sits on the island and scowls at his feet. 

Peter moves to sit with him, and the two are in deep silence, listening. 

They hear it at the same time. A high pitched alarm that has both their heads swiveling to the back door. 

Ow-wow-wow!

A 'fox call. 

The two are on their feet in a second, bursting through the back door and racing across the yard. The sound was close, and Peter beta shifts, eyes blue as he looks through the trees. 

Stiles breaks out from the treeline seconds later, and Peter let's out a breath of relief, before hes back to worrying. 

Stiles barrels through the yard, favoring his front right leg. Peter's about to bend down to catch him when he shifts mid step, gasping in a shuddering breath as he fell into Peter's arms, blood and black leaking from his shoulder. 

"Call Deaton!" Peter snaps, lifting Stiles into his arms and spinning back to the house. By the time they make it to the kitchen, the others are up, staring with wide eyes and open mouths. 

"Clear the table!"

Hayden and Liam rush forward, wiping away the evening's dishes. No one worries about the broken plates. Derek is on the phone as Peter lays Stiles down on the table. He's shivering and whining, face contorted with pain. 

"It-it's foxglove," Stiles grits out, knees bending. His bare feet press into the table as pain wrecks through his body. 

"Foxglove," Derek relays to Deaton. Hayden runs into the kitchen with the afghan from the back of thr couch and rags from the hallway closet. 

Peter covers Stiles before placing a rag under his shoulder, and adding a second one over it. 

"Ah!" Stiles growls in pain when Peter puts pressure on it. He throws his head back, lip pulled back to show small sharp fangs as he pants. 

"We don't have the strain!" Derek snaps over the phone. "Just get here and help him!"

The younger kids are all standing by the entrance of the kitchen, worry and fear on their faces and in their scents as Stiles howls in pain, claws fingers scratching at the wood of the table. 

Derek is at Stiles' side seconds later, phone in his pocket as he wraps his hands around Stiles' arm, sucking his pain away while Peter continues to add pressure to his shoulder. 

"He's on his way," Derek said. "Malia, go wait on the porch, let him in when he gets here."

Malia nods and runs off, leaving the rest of the rares standing there. Jordan ushers them away, much to Peter's relief, forcing them all upstairs and out of the way. 

"It hurts," Stiles whines, body moving on it's own as he struggles to escape the pain. His legs kick slowly, heels digging into the table. His hands grip at anything in his reach, the table, Derek's forearm, Peter's shirt. 

"I know," Peter sooths, running his free hand over his hair, pushing it off his forehead. "You're okay."

Stiles continues to pant and whimper and shift on the table. He doesnt notice when the rest of the pack begin trickling in. Derek snaps at them when they linger, telling them to go to their rooms and wait. 

Laura and Talia stumble in through the doggie door with Theo, who looks shaken up and bloody. 

"What happened?" Derek demanded, shooting a scowl at Theo. Laura and Talia slip into tunic dresses it's the quickest thing to grab- and take Theo to the island to clean up. 

"They just showed up out of nowhere," Theo stammered as Laura checked him over for injuries. He was still clothed, though the blood and mud stained any parts that weren't cur open. 

"I tried to get Stiles away, but they shot at us," he continued, eyes landing on Stiles, who was pale and crying, claws piercing into Peter's side. "He took off and I tried to distract them."

"You're lucky they were only carrying foxglove," Talia snapped. Peter knew she wasn't short because she was angry. His sister was worried. 

Peter tuned them out in favor of focusing on Stiles. He felt completely helpless. If if had been wolfsbane, he'd have been able to help, they kept some on hand for cases like this. 

But they didnt have foxglove. Stiles would die without it. Derek continued to take his pain, but it didnt seem to help. 

"He's here!" Malia called, rushing in with Deaton at her heels. Peter moved out of the way, letting Deaton take his place. Stiles' claws dug in deeper to his side in a desperate attempt to keep Peter close. 

Peter grabbed his hand, holding it tightly while Deaton worked, pulling out a glass case of foxglove and a lighter. 

The kitchen was cleared of everyone but Peter, Talia and Derek. Laura went with Theo upstairs, and Peter knew she was going to talk to the pack about what was going on. 

"Okay, this is going to hurt," Deaton warned after the foxglove was burned. It stung Peter's nose. 

Stiles growled out a whine when Deaton shoved the herb into the bullet hole, pressing it in as deep as he could with his thumb. His heels pressed into the table, lifting himself off the table. Peter and Derek held him down, which resulted in Stiles shaking in pain. 

It subsided. Derek and Deaton managed to get Stiles to sit up. He was still shaking, panting and snarling in pain, lip peeled back and eyes flashing orange. 

"One more time," Deaton said. Peter held Stiles' hand firmly, placing a hand on his leg, right above his knee. Derek held his food shoulder, hand on his other leg, bracing. 

This time, when Deaton stuck the burned herbs into Stiles' bullet hole, Stiles leaned forward, trying to get away from his proding fingers. Derek held him still. 

The black in the wounds and in his veins burned away, and the skin soon healed over, leaving black and blood behind. 

When Deaton steps back, Peter can already see the color returning to Stiles' skin, heart beat returning to normal. 

Stiles let's go, retracting his claws as he does so. He moves to the edge of the table, holding the afghan over his lap with shaky hands. 

Talia ushers Deaton from the room, the two speaking in low voices. 

"Are you okay?" Peter asked softly, hands moving to cup Stiles' jaw, fingers brushing at the hair behind his ear. 

Stiles only nods before ducking his head forward. Peter steps closer, moving between Stiles' legs and wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Stiles drops his forehead on Peter's shoulder, thr last of his shaking slowly dying down. 

Talia returns after walking Deaton out, looking at the two of them before sighing. Stiles refuses to let him go when Peter tries to step back, and Talia catches how Stiles' arms tighten around Peter's ribs. 

"We'll talk in the morning," she decides. "Deaton is working on wards for tonight, but we might want to look into strengthening the territory wards as well."

Peter nods and Talia heads towards her room, leaving Stiles and Peter alone in the kitchen. 

"Come on, kit," Peter sighs, pulling Stiles to his feet. His legs are shaky. 

"I'm not a kit," Stiles grumbles. He allows Peter to walk him up the stairs. They pass Stiles' room and into Peter's. He loans Stiles a pair of shorts and then the two crawl into bed. 

Stiles curls up against Peter, holding him like Peter will disappear if he loosens his grip even a little. 

"They knew I was here," Stiles says, so softly Peter nearly missed it. Peter just pulls him closer. He doesnt fall asleep until after Stiles does, his tense body relaxing as his breathing evens out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I finally managed to finish the chapter! Lol I didnt realize writing 5,000+ word chapters were so much harder than the 1,000 to 3,000 words on my other books! But I powered through and here you go!! I hope you like it!
> 
> Please be patient with this book! I'm writing as fast as I can, but I get three chapters of Pretty Little Wolf for every one chapter of Fox and the Hound.


	6. Chapter 6

When Peter wakes up, the bed is empty. It's too early for anyone else to be up -the sun isnt even up yet. Peter frowns, climbing out of bed and leaving the room to search for Stiles. 

He finds him in his room, backpack on the bed. Peter scowls at the 'fox who is frantically ripping shirts out of the top drawer. He was fully dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt. 

"What are you doing?" Peter asked, watching Stiles take two long strides back to the bed, dropping the armful of shirts onto the bed beside the bag. 

"Leaving," Stiles snapped, going back to the dresser to snatch an armful of pants in the next drawer down. Peter stepped fully into the room, shutting the door behind him. 

Stiles had moved the dresser away from his bed, and it stood awkwardly close to the wall, yet crooked and leaving about six inches between. 

Stiles was shoving handfuls of clothes into the bag, growling when not all of it would fit. 

"Stiles."

"You bought me too much!" Stiles snapped, yanking the clothes back out to restuff them. Peter walked closer, grabbing the clothes from his hands. 

"Stiles-"

"No!" Stiles yelled, yanking his hands out of Peter's and stepping back. His hands were shaking now. "I can't. Peter they know I'm here I have to leave."

"You're safe here, Stiles," Peter said, stepping forward. He held his hands up placating. Stiles just shook his head, panic in his scent. 

"I'm not!" Stiles snapped. "They used foxglove! Not wolfsbane, Peter, foxglove! Which means they knew I was here and they waited for me!"

Peter took another step forward, Stiles taking two back and hitting the wall. 

"I put Theo in danger, and I'm putting the pack in danger and I can't-" his eyes flashed orange as he took a sharp inhale. "I can't- I can't stay- I-"

Peter moved forward, quickly curling his arms around Stiles' shoulders when he saw the shift -eyes blazing orange, small razor sharp teeth, claws. Stiles sucked in shaky breaths, his nose and mouth pressed into the meat of Peter's shoulder, hands shakily hovering over Peter's shoulder blades. 

"You're okay," Peter spoke softly, running his hands over Stiles' upper back, rubbing his cheek against Stiles' jaw in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. He knew it helped 'wolves, but 'foxes weren't as tactile. 

Stiles gripped the back of his shirt, fisting the fabric as he burrowed in closer, still gasping for breath. There was no way Peter was going to let Stiles run. He was safest here -with him. 

Stiles was still panicked, the pinpricks of his claws digging into Peter's back telling Peter all he needed to know. 

He leaned back enough to grab Stiles' face, forcing the two to look at each other. His eyes were flickering from honey brown to fire orange. 

Peter leaned forward and kissed him hard. Stiles inhaled, caught off guard. Peter kept his lips firmly against Stiles' until he felt Stiles' claws leave his skin. 

He felt his fangs disappear, and then he pulled away. Stiles' cheeks were bright red, matching the redness to his eyes. 

"Stay here," Peter said, possibly sounding like a plea. "I'll look after you."

Stiles shook his head, inhaling to argue. Peter kissed him again. This kiss a little deeper. 

"You're safe here," Peter said. "Safer here than you've ever been elsewhere."

"No, I can't-"

Peter kissed him again, and this time Stiles let out a whine, placing his hands on Peter's chest, like he was going to push Peter away, but didnt. 

"You're not the first rare they've tried to take from us, Stiles," Peter said softly, keeping their faces close. Stiles' heart beat was still really fast, his grip on Peter's shirt tight and shaky. 

"Hayden was taken a couple years ago and we got her back," he continued. "Jordan almost died, Jackson took on a whole team of ESB on his own."

Stiles opened his mouth with a shake of his head, looking pained and feeling panicked still. Peter kissed him softly. 

"You're pack, Stiles. I'm not gonna let you leave."

"I don't want you guys to get hurt because of me," Stiles confessed softly, eyes lowered to stare at Peter's clothed chest. 

"Pack takes care of pack," Peter responds. "And you're pack weather you like it or not."

Peter pressed their foreheads together, one hand moving to cup the back of Stiles' neck. "Stay here," he begged softly, keeping their foreheads pressed together. "With me."

Stiles sucked his lower lip between his teeth, giving a small nod before tilting his head so he could drop it on Peter's shoulder. 

They stayed hugging together until they heard Talia calling for them, but even as they walked down the stairs, Stiles didn't let go of Peter's hand. 

The rares were sitting at the dining room table with Talia, Laura, and Derek. Jordan was in his uniform, cup of coffee between his hands. He gave Stiles a sympathetic smile when they entered the room. 

Peter sat with Stiles, keeping a reassuring pressure to his thigh. 

"With the ESB around, its time we started taking precautions," Talia said. "I don't want to lose any of you."

"What kind of precautions?" Jordan asked, sipping at his coffee. Jordan was pretty safe from the ESB and hunters. Most people didn't know silver could kill a hellhound, and the ESB hadn't tried to take him in after their last attempt -he set fire to himself and everything within a mile of himself. 

There was still a bare spot in the preserve, though the vegetation was beginning to grow back. 

"Alan brought by trackers for each of you, so we know where you guys are at all times, and you guys won't be able to go out on your own."

Stiles was sitting quietly, fiddling with his fingers in his lap. Peter moved his hand from Stiles' thigh, setting it on top of Stiles' hands. 

Stiles twisted his fingers with Peter's, but didn't stop his fiddling. Peter didn't mind. 

"It'll be a little harder with Jordan," Talia was saying, bringing Peter back to the conversation at hand. 

"I'm with a partner my whole shift," Jordan shrugged. Talia nodded with a small smile before turning to Jackson and Hayden. 

Hayden was still in high school, but she shared classes with Liam, Malia, Mason and Theo, so they'd be able to keep an eye on her. 

Jackson was part time college and part time work. Talia wasn't really worried for them, but she wanted to be prepared for anything. 

Jackson could take care of himself, and Derek had agreed to stick around for the next few days just in case. 

And Stiles was staying with Peter. Talia didn't have to say anything about it. Stiles didn't go to school and Peter worked from home. 

After that, Talia pulled out the little tracker bands. They were made to look like bracelets. Stiles took his silently and slipped it on, tightening the strap around his thin wrist before pressing the little button on the side to activate it. 

"They'll shift with you, so they won't fall off in either form you choose," Talia said. 

When everyone leaves, Peter and Laura stay behind to talk with Talia. This was the closest the ESB has ever gotten before. They're getting brave, and as the left hand and future Alpha, Laura and Peter needed to work with Talia to come up with a plan. 

"I don't think chasing them off our territory is going to do it this time," Laura said with a huff. She was rubbing her forehead. "We've got four rares, they're not going to just let us keep them." 

"What do you suggest we do?" Talia asked, sounding just as exhausted as Laura. 

"We could kill them," Peter suggested with a shrug. Talia gave him an incredulous look, but Laura looked slightly on board. 

"Or do enough damage to deter them from coming after our own," Peter rectified with a huff. 

"How?" Talia asked with a raised eyebrow. 

"They own a building just outside of Redding," Laura says. "We could knock it out."

"And then what?" Talia demands, eyebrows knitted together. 

"We hit hard enough they won't come after us," Peter shrugged again. 

"And we could possibly hit others too," Derek added quietly. "Every ESB lab has people trapped inside."

"And if we fail?"

"We wont," Peter grinned, arms crossed over his chest. "We have the biggest pack this side of New Mexico. The Redding lab is a pop-up shop at best."

Talia shot him a look, lips thinning. "You know thats not true." 

It wasn't. The Redding lab was the fifth largest lab in the United States. Well, Peter rectified, its the fifth largest that housed Supernaturals. The ESB kept their animals separate from the supernaturals. 

"We can handle it, Talia," Peter said. "We can't just sit around and wait for them to come after our own when we have a chance to hit back."

"Yeah, mom, we can do it," Laura nodded. Talia sighed heavily, turning to look at Derek. 

Derek just gave a small shrug, looking from Peter to Talia, then to Laura. Derek would be taking over as left hand when Laura became alpha. The two would have to work together -like Talia and Peter- and they'd have to learn how to take care of a pack. 

"I think if we plan ahead and train, we can do it," Derek said. 

"Alright," Talia said with a huff, continuing to rub at her forehead. "If you guys can come up with a plan, I'll-"

"Let us play vigilante and free the oppressed?" Laura asks with a feral grin. Takes after her uncle, Peter smirks, cocking an eyebrow at Talia. 

"Sure," Talia said with a roll of her eyes. "But I don't want anyone getting hurt. You come up with a plan I feel will put the least amount of our pack in danger, and I'll agree."

After, Peter finds Stiles slouching in his chair, gnawing on the side of his thumb, leg bouncing where he has them spread apart. 

He looks up when Peter enters the room, a quick jerky movement, his leg stopping. 

"You okay?" Peter asked softly, stepping closer. Stiles pushes his thumb out of his mouth with his tongue. 

Stiles jumps out of the seat and bodily slams into Peter's chest, arms around Peter's shoulders. Peter easily accepts the leg Stiles offers and lifts him off the floor. 

Stiles quickly wraps himself around Peter, burying his nose in Peter's neck and letting out a high pitched whine that gets caught in his human throat. 

"Last time they were this close I lost my parents," Stiles whispers, voice shaky. Peter could feel the wetness of tears on his neck, so he hugs Stiles tightly before turning out of the living room and making his way up the stairs. 

Stiles lets himself be carried down the hall to Peter's room, and doesn't let go until Peter sits down on the edge of the bed, and even then, its only enough to look at Peter. 

"Nothing bad is going to happen to you," Peter promises. He takes Stiles' hands from around his neck, holding them between their chests. "We took care of the hunters."

"What about the ESB?" Stiles asks. "If the hunters found me, then the ESB knows where I am too."

"Thats why you're wearing this," Peter said, thumbing the band around Stiles' wrist without letting go of his hand. "If they get to you, we'll be able to get you back."

Stiles doesn't look like he's reassured at all, so Peter lifts his hands and kisses at his knuckles. 

"We're planning on hitting the lab in Redding," he says softly into the smooth knuckles. "And after that, we're going to get the one in Colorado. You're safe here, Stiles, I promise."

Peter lets go with one hand to cup Stiles' cheek, lifting his face so Stiles could look at him. "I'll kill anyone who ever tries to take you from this pack." From me, he thinks. 

Stiles moves forward, haltingly before he presses his lips to Peter's. Peter kisses him back, the hand on the 'fox's jaw moving behind his ear to curl into the short hairs. 

When Stiles pulled away, there was a sharpness to his fox-like features, though his hands still held Peter tightly. 

"I want to help," he said. "With the Redding lab."

*-*

"This is a terrible idea," Theo commented, for the fifth time in so many minutes. Stiles stifled a growl of frustration. 

"I'm aware," he snapped, his own nerves in a jumbled knot. 

"What if something goes wrong?" Liam asked. Stiles did growl at that, the pitch much higher than a 'wolf's growl, but it was just as effective in expressing Stiles' mood at the two teenagers. 

"Nothings going to go wrong if you guys do your jobs," he snapped. 

The three of them were hunched down in the wooded area of Lassen Park. It had taken a lot of planning and a lot of arguing but in the end, the pack had decided the best way to take the ESB lab down was if someone was on the inside. 

Stiles was that somebody. He had argued his case fairly well, and Talia and Peter had to concede to the fact that Stiles was the best for the job. 

Hayden was too young, Jackson was too hot headed, Corey would probably piss himself, and Jordan was too dangerous for them not to take wild precautions that could hinder their plans in any way. 

So, Stiles was the bait. Theo and Liam were supposed to follow, and they all had to pray that the ESB didn't check Stiles' molar for the little transmission device. 

"Go time," the little voice in the walkie talkie chirped. Stiles thought he might throw up. He turned to the two werewolves with a stern look. 

"Don't fuck up," he growled. The two teenagers nodded. Stiles didnt bother stripping his clothes off before shifting, his other form being much smaller than his human form. 

Once he wiggled his way out of his clothes, he shot one last look at the teenagers before bolting into the woods. 

His heart pounded in his chest as the anxiety settled in. This was a stupid idea. He shouldve listened to Peter and Derek. 

It was too late now. It had taken months for them to perfect the plan. There was a back-up plan in place, and even a back-up back-up plan. 

Nothing would go wrong, Talia and Peter would make sure of it. But as Stiles ran through the underbrush -as loud as an elephant- he couldn't help but worry it would all fail. 

He had a pack now. And no, Stiles wasn't a pack animal at all, but he had friends. He had people. And he just got Peter! He had a lot to lose now. 

Stiles slowed down when he heard the snapping of twigs and had to force himself not to bolt in the opposite direction. This was the plan. 

Derek and Jordan located the ESB, Theo and Liam were keeping an eye on Stiles. Stiles was supposed to run right into the ESB and let them take him. 

Most shapeshifters looked slightly different than their animal counterpart. Werewolves were a little bigger than regular wolves. Werecheetahs were darker in color and had more muscle. 

Werefoxes had a darker coat, and were a little bigger than regular foxes. The differences were subtle, but to the trained eye of a hunter -or the ESB- it was easy to spot. 

Stiles knew he would instantly be recognized as a shifter the moment the humans stumbled upon him. 

Stiles played the naive young shifter. He kept his attention to the forest around him, stomping on leaves and lapping at the small stream. 

When the ESB came closer, Stiles lifted his head, ears perking up, playing like they had caught him unaware. 

The ESB's surprise was real, and for a moment, no one moved. It gave Stiles a chance to assess. Three men, two women. All in hiking gear, one man carrying a back pack which Stiles assumed housed equipment. 

Stiles knew he couldnt just bolt now, otherwise he'd escape, so he stood stock still, like a deer caught in the headlights. 

He was surprised when one of the girls pulled out a tranquilizer gun out from the small of her back as quick as lightning. 

Stiles bolted to the right -closer to the girl with the gun- chest heaving with the need to flee. This was such a bad idea. 

He heard the gun fire seconds before feeling a sharp pain in his side. He yelped, stumbling a bit. The tranquilizer worked fast, and within seconds, Stiles was falling to his stomach. 

He growled and bit at the hands suddenly invading his space. "Look at him! He's the perfect specimen!"

Stiles was muzzled and picked up, his legs clamped together in someone's hands while his body sagged in their arms. His muscles refused to work. He couldn't even call for help. 

"Lets get him back and run some tests," the girl with the gun said. "He seems healthy, we might be able to put him right into the breeding pool."

Stiles felt his eyelids get heavy as he was carried towards the Redding lab. This was what he wanted, he reminded himself as his world grew blurry. This was what they'd planned for. 

*-*

Stiles woke up to bright light and human skin. He squinted and blinked up at the ceiling, then turned his head to see the room at his side. 

He was in a hospital room of sorts, and for a brief moment, Stiles wondered if he'd slept through the whole thing. Then the door opened and strangers in lab coats entered the room. 

"Lets do a full physical," a masked man said, stepping up to the side of the bed Stiles was strapped down to. His glasses fogged on the bottom with every breath. "We'll do some blood work, and if he's healthy on all fronts, we can put him in with the females."

"Fuck you," Stiles growled, yanking at his restraints. He noticed the tracking bracelet was still on his wrist, and it brought him a bit of comfort. A pair of black skin tight shorts covered his hips, and his skin looked too pale under the harsh lights. 

The three doctors -or vets, or ESB workers or whoever the fuck they were- spoke over him, like Stiles couldn't understand. It was more terrifying -in Stiles' opinion- to have people in lab coats poke and prod him and not say a single thing to him or even acknowledge his existence. He hated it, and it further raised his anxiety and fear. 

Someone poked his arm and drew blood. Stiles growled at her, tried to rip his arm away, but could barely move a centimeter. 

His wrists and ankles were pinned down, as well as his thighs and shoulders. He could lift his head and wiggle his torso, but that was it. 

Stiles didnt bother paying attention to what exactly they were saying over him in their clinical tones and scientific research. It would just frighten him more. 

He wished Peter got here soon. He didnt know how long it had been, but he knew having the transmitter in his molar and the tracking bracelet would help. 

The pack would get here, Stiles would be fine. He just had to deal with a little check up first. 

He snapped sharp canines at the hand that lifted his upper lip, growling threateningly and thrashing in his bindings. 

"Whoa!" The man laughed, withdrawing his gloved hand before turning to his colleagues. 

"Hand me the muzzle, Tracy." Stiles groaned again, turning from the man in glasses to the dark haired woman, who had spun around to the table beside them. 

This muzzle was different from the one put on him in fox form. This one was made for a human face, and Stiles sneered. 

Tracy passed it over Stiles for Glasses to take, and he thanked her professionally. Stiles couldnt help but imagine this is what it would look like to be awake for a surgery -having masked people in scrubs talking over you as they passed tools back and forth. 

"Fox shifters can't turn a human with a bite the way wolf shifters can," Glasses informed his colleagues, sounding pompous and teacher-y. He opened the muzzle and brought it towards Stiles' face. 

"But they can carry diseases, so its better to be safe than sorry."

"Get the fuck off me," Stiles growled, canines sharp and eyes glowing orange. He shook his head back and forth to keep the man from muzzle him, shoulders curling off the table. 

"Hold still now," Glasses grunted. Stiles growled and thrashed, but the muzzle landed on his face anyway. 

His claws scratched at the metal table under him, and he continued growling and kicking as best he can. 

Glasses forced his head to the side, placing a hand on his cheek to keep his head turned, and locked the muzzle around his head. 

The muzzle covered his face from nose to chin, keeping his mouth shut. Straps wrapped around the sides of his head, and one more over the top kept the contraption pinned tightly to his face. 

There were holes poked into the black leather for him to breathe. It was a mix between Bane's mask from Batman, Hannibal Lector's mask, and the Winter Soldier's. 

Stiles couldnt open his mouth, could hardly breathe out of it. He growled some more, the sound vibrating his teeth painfully. 

The check up continued. It was a normal physical. They checked his eyes, his ears, tonsils, lungs, heart and stomach. 

They checked his healing too. Stiles made it as difficult as possible for them, but they didn't seem to struggle much, which made Stiles mad. 

"We've gotten the blood tests back," the woman said, coming into the room with a sheet of paper. She handed it to Glasses, who looked it over before humming in approval. 

"Gokd, let's get him ready for the breeding room," he said. "We'll keep the muzzle on for now, let him get used to the female before we take it off."

Stiles growled again. He wondered if he could take the three of them out when they released the restraints holding him to the table. 

He didnt know where in the building he was, or how many other workers there were. He couldn't even talk to the pack, who were listening in on the transmission device attached to his molar. 

He was gearing up to hurt some people when Glasses turned back to Stiles with a syringe. He was stuck in the meaty part of his shoulder. His tense muscles relaxed without his permission, fhe voices of the people over him fading with his sight until everything was black. 

*-*

The next time Stiles woke up, the room was darker. The lights were low watts, and instead of a metal table, Stiles was on thin foam on the floor. 

The first thing he noticed when he sat up was the floor to ceiling one way mirror. He blinked. They watched?

The second thing he noticed was the woman standing in the corner of the room. She wore a tank top and shorts -which was a lot more than Stiles had on. 

She was short, not too skinny, with red hair falling over her shoulders. 

The third -and most frustrating- thing he noticed was the muzzle still on his face. He reached a hand up, digging fingers into the bands that wrapped around his head. 

He couldn't find the clasp at all. 

"You can't get that off," the girl said. Stiles glanced over at her. She took a small step forward, arms crossed over her chest. "Its electronic. You need a key to unlock it."

Stiles -unable to do anything else- growled. He fiddled with it a little more, trying to pull the whole thing off over his head. No dice. The thing was too tight. 

"You're a 'fox?" The girl asked. Stiles dropped his hands in frustration before nodding to the girl. 

She took another step forward. Stiles nodded to the one way mirror, scrjnching his face as best be could. The girl looked at it before chewing on her lip. 

"They monitor all their programs," she said. Stiles growled again. He really wished the pack would get here soon. He had no intention of 'breeding' this girl, especially not with strangers watching them. 

"I didn't think there were any of you left," the girl confessed softly. Stiles looked up at her and sighed. "Did they take your whole family?"

Stiles grunted and climbed to his feet. The foam mat did nothing to protect his bones from the hard floor under it. The girl took a couple steps back and Stiles froze before lifting his hands in a non-threatening way. 

He gave a shake of his head before pointing at her. He was the worst at charades. He clawed at the mask again, but it was no use. Whatever it was made of was stronger than he was. 

"They'll make you," the girl said, back pressed into the wall. Stiles frowned at her, before tilting his head in question. "If we don't- if we don't 'breed', they hurt you."

Stiles snapped his head to the one way mirror and growled, hands clenching at his sides before turning back to the girl and shaking his head in a firm no. He wouldn't do that. Not ever. 

The pack would come. Peter would. 

"Were you alone when they caught you?" The girl asked. Stiles almost shook his head. Liam and Theo had -hopefully- followed. But the ESB didn't know about that, and if anyone was behind the one way mirror, they'd know he wasn't alone. 

He nodded instead. 

"What happened to your family?" She asked. Stiles didnt bother answering her. Instead, he moved to the door beside the mirror. 

He tried the handle, knowing it was locked, and then slammed his shoulder into it. 

"It won't open," the girl said. Stiles growled and spun around to face the rest of the room. Maybe there was something he could use to break the mirror. 

The only thing in the room was the foam mattress. Stiles' chest heaved as he tried to take deep breaths through the mask. There wasn't a big enough opening for air to filter through quick enough. 

"You need to calm down," the girl said, eyeing the mirror. Her heart beat was racing, and she smelled afraid. But she didn't seem afraid of Stiles, which made the 'fox pause and look at her with furrowed brows. "They'll come in if you get too excited."

Stiles grunted and dropped to his ass against the wall, knees bent in front of him and arms laying straight out. 

The girl moved away from the wall a little and sat down on the foam pad, watching Stiles the whole time. 

"They'll come take the mask off when they come in with food," she said softly, looking at Stiles sympathetically. Stiles just sighed before pointing at her. 

He really did suck at charades. What he wanted to know was what she was -since she clearly wasn't a shifter. 

What he got in response to his pointing was a frown of confusion. "My name is Lydia," she said. 

Stiles flapped his hand and shook his head before pointing to her again. When she still didn't get it, Stiles pointed to himself, growled loud enough for her to hear through the mask and flashed his eyes orange. 

He pointed at her and tilted his head a little. She seemed to understand then -thank God. Stiles didnt think he'd be able to do much more than that. 

"I'm not a shifter," she said. Stiles nodded with a roll of his eyes, urging her to get to the point. She raised an eyebrow at him, pursing her lips but responding all the same. 

"I'm a banshee," she said. Stiles blinked. Banshees weren't really the ESB's style. They took 'endangered' shifter species like himself and Jackson, Hayden, Corey and Jordan. 

Although banshees were rare, there was nothing the ESBs could do to 'repopulate'. Banshees were created when a female baby's heart stopped and then restarted in the womb. It usually happened in the third trimester, and it usually restarted on its own, which is what made banshees rare. 

"A human womb wouldn't be able to carry a shifter to full term," Lydia informed. "Using another shifter ran the risk of the baby coming out the wrong species, or being mixed."

Lydia shifted her legs so they were folded to the side of her body, one hand holding her ankle. 

"And there aren't many female 'foxes to pair with males, so they substitute. Banshees aren't shifters, but we aren't human either. Our abilities can't be passed down."

Stiles grunted and crossed his arms, showing his utter disgust at that. Lydia sighed and nodded. 

After a moment, Stiles pointed to her again before gesturing to his belly. 

"Once," she said. Her shoulders drooped a bit, her scent souring. Stiles leaned forward a little. 

"They took the baby before I could see it," she continued. Stiles dropped his gaze to his lap. He wondered how many people were trapped in here. How many shifter babies were trapped in a room just like this, raised to become breeding machines to 'repopulate'. 

The thought made Stiles sick to his stomach, and he swallowed to keep from throwing up in his mouth. 

Stiles had just enough room to bite down, and could feel the transmitter pressing against his tongue. They'd glued it to his molar. It picked up noise outside of his mouth. He wondered how well it worked with the mask, but he could still clack his teeth together. 

Stiles' dad had taught him morse code when he was younger. It was essential when you were running for your life. Knocking a code into the wood of a tree when you were trapped or hiding let others know what was going on. 

Stiles prayed that someone in the pack knew morse code too. Hd bit down a tattoo, glaring at the one way mirror. 

He repeated the message -a simple 'hurry up'- twice before leaning back against the wall. 

"I'm sorry you're in here," Lydia said, catching Stiles' attention. He frowned at her. It wasn't her fault. He pointed at her, trying to convey that if anything, he was sorry she was in here. She had been here for at least a year, if not more. 

Lydia was about to speak when the electricity suddenly went out. The girl froze and Stiles jumped to his feet, eyes glowing orange. 

He could see through the two way mirror when the door on the other side opened, light filtering in. 

Three figures rushed out of the room, and when the door was shut, the room disappeared again. 

"Whats going on?" Lydia asked, voice wavering. So this wasn't normal. That meant wither the pack was here, or someone was going to come through those doors and hurt them. 

Stiles growled and moved to stand in front of Lydia, reaching out to grab her arm. She jumped, her breath hitching. 

Stiles got her to her feet and crowded her into the farthest corner from the door. He pressed his back into her front, pinning her to the wall. 

Her hands grabbed at his shoulders and Stiles strained to hear anything outside of the room. He couldn't. He gritted his teeth, claws digging into the palms of his hands. 

It seemed like forever, standing and waiting for something. The tension between the two of them was so thick Stiles could almost taste it over Lydia's fear. 

Both of them tensed when the door handle jiggled from the other side. Lydia's hands tightened their hold on his shoulders, and Stiles lowered his stance, ready to charge at whoever was on the other side of the door. 

The door clicked open and blinding light filtered through the small crack. 

"Stiles?"

Stiles blinked, all the tension bleeding from him. He rushed for the door as Laura pushed it open further. 

"Stiles!"

Laura wrapped him up in a hug, grinning from ear to ear. "This place is gigantic!"

Stiles grunted, pulling away from Laura and walking into the room again. He grabbed Lydia's hand and tugged her from the corner. 

"Whats going on?" She asked. 

"Jail break, sweetheart," Laura smiled, ushering the two of them out of the room and into the hallway. 

"We've already found three other 'foxes," Laura said. "The three musketeers and Derek are taking them to the meet up. The rest of us are grabbing as many of those ESB fuckers as we can."

"Killing them?" Lydia asked, hand still in Stiles'. Laura glanced at her, looking her over before nodding. 

"Anyone who knows about the supernatural runs the risk of sharing our secret," she said, leading the two down winding hallways. Their bare feet slapped against the cold lamonium flooring. "This lab specializes in supernaturals only, so the actual Endangered Species Biologists saving actual endangered animals won't be effected."

Lydia gave a firm nod. Laura turned her attention to Stiles then, frowning at the mask on his face. 

"We'll have Peter look at that, he'll be able to get it off." Stiles nodded. 

Laura lead them to what looked like a control room, and the instant they stepped inside, Stiles found Peter. He was dropping papers and books into a pile on the floor. A burn pile. Cora and Malia were there too. 

Peter lifted his eyes from the pile and dropped the book in hand before rushing for Stiles. Stiles let go of Lydia and crashed into his chest, curling his arms around Peter's ribs and burying his face in Peter's shoulder. 

"This was a stupid plan," he groaned. Stiles nodded frantically, tightening his hold. 

Peter pulled away, hands coming up to cup Stiles' jaw. He looked at the mask, studying it and tilting Stiles' head this way and that, frowning. 

"Its electronic," Lydia supplied. "Theres a key." 

Peter hummed in response before his eyes met Stiles'. "We'll get it off," he promised. "But first we have to go."

"Yeah, Jordan's already torched the top three floors."

"Who's Jordan?" Lydia asked. Peter let go of Stiles' face, pulling out a lighter before dropping it onto the pile of books and papers, setting it alight. 

"Our hellhound," Cora grinned. The group of them left the room, Peter holding Stiles' hand as they made their way through the halls. 

Stiles could smell the fire and burning drywall above him, could feel the hallways getting hotter and knew Jordan was working fast. 

The rest of the pack was taking care of the ESBs. The hallways were empty, save for the occasional body or discarded weapon. Blood slicked the floor, and Stiles almost slipped a couple times on their way to the exit. 

He was a little worried about Lydia. He didnt know what she was used to. Could she sense all the death, or did it only work after they died? Did she have to see the person before they died?

Stiles didnt have long to contemplate this though. They broke through a set of double doors and spilled out into the night air. 

The rest of the pack -sans Jordan- were waiting for them, along with the other 'foxes. 

There was a man and woman. The woman was holding a toddler in her arms, and Stiles recognized the red hair. 

Lydia did too, because she let out a small sob before rushing towards them. 

The woman -a brunette with blue eyes- smiled at Lydia, easily allowing the toddler to switch hands. Lydia nuzzled the baby like a shifter would, holding the kid tight to her chest and crying. 

The male 'fox was shorter than the woman, and much older. He looked in his fifties and was graying. The woman was possibly in her early thirties. 

"Stiles." 

Stiles turned from the 'foxes to see Talia. He let go of Peter's hand and stepped up to her, hugging her and allowing her to press their foreheads together. 

"Lets go home." Stiles nodded frantically, shoulders drooping. Peter collected him once more, stuffing the 'fox under his arm. 

Talia turned to the new comers. "We have room for you all, if you'd like to stay with us. If you need to call family we can set you up with a place to stay until they came get you."

The female 'fox had a small family in New Mexico, and asked to use the phone. The man -who introduced himself as Tony, decided to stay with the pack. 

Lydia and her baby -who didn't have a name yet, even though the toddler looked to be about three- also decided to stay. 

The car ride back was long and the four cars they drove up to Redding in were stuffed full. Stiles sat on Peter's lap, head resting on his shoulder. 

Peter ran fingers over his arms and thighs, pacifying the both of them. Peter knew someone in town that was good with electronics and was in the know. He had called during the drive back and the guy was waiting at the house for Stiles. 

He couldn't wait to get the stupid thing off. 

When they finally got home, it was well into the early morning, and Stiles was exhausted. The rest of thd pack was too. 

Everyone filed out of the vehicles and disappeared into their rooms. The 'foxes got their own rooms on the first floor, Talia getting them settled in. 

"Hey, Lydia," Laura called. "You can sleep in Stiles' room for tonight. I'm sure Stiles will be sleeping with Peter."

Lydia looked over at Stiles for confirmation. He nodded, and waved her off before letting Peter drag him into the kitchen. 

The guy -Danny something-or-other- really was a tech genius. He had to connect wires to the back of the mask and spent a good ten minutes clicking away on his computer before letting out a victorious and prideful "gotcha!"

Seconds later, Stiles felt the mask loosen and then fall away completely. He opened his mouth, stretching his jaw before grinning. 

"Thanks."

"No problem," Danny said, distracted by the mask he now held in his hands. 

"Taks it home," Peter huffed in amusement. Danny's eyes widened as he looked up at the werewolf. 

"Really?"

"Go for it," Peter nodded. "Lock up on your way out."

Stiles let Peter yank him up from the chair and the two of them headed for the stairs. 

"No more being bait," Peter said once they reached the landing. "I don't like worrying about you."

"Okay," Stiles nodded. Next time they could use Jackson as bait. Or maybe they didn't need bait at all next time. 

Peter took them to the end of the hall, where his room was and shut the door behind them once they got inside. 

Stiles was still in nothing but those skin tight shorts. Peter handed him a pair of sleep pants and Stiles gratefully changed into them while Peter stepped out of his jeans. 

In bed, Stiles curled into Peter's side, the two of them wrapped in limbs and blankets. 

"That felt good," Stiles hummed softly, eyelids growing heavy in the dark room. "Helping them."

"I'm glad," Peter smiled, pressing a kiss to Stiles' forehead. 

"When are we going to the next lab?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate the ending but at least its done! 
> 
> I'm sorry for the absolute shit that is this book. The idea at the beginning was there, but as I wrote, I lost interest in it fast, the plot didn't sit right with me, the story line sucked. But I already posted it and I don't like changing the plot once I post so I had to stick it out. 
> 
> This book was extremely disappointing and such a struggle to complete. 
> 
> I'm glad its done though, I hate leaving work unfinished. Please please read a different book I'm begging you! 
> 
> If you actually stuck around for the absolute worst last chapter, thank you! I hope it wasnt too bad for you


End file.
